


Diaboli Virtus in Lumbis est.  Book One

by SqueezeBabe



Series: Diaboli Virtus in Lumbis est. [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A Lesson in Hubris, Angelic Plisetsky, Angels and Demons, Break the Haughty, Church Sex, Dark Fantasy, Demonic Possession, Dubious Consent, Horror, Lots of Angst, M/M, Not for the faint of heart, POV Multiple, PROBLEMATIC!, Porn With Plot, Possessed Sex, Possession, Post-Series, Pride Before Fall, Sacrilege, Smut and Angst, The devil's in the details, Tragedy, bigbangonice2018, lots of porn, the duality of man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13596453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe
Summary: Viktor has been possessed by Lucifer hell-bent on destroying the world. How's he going to do it? Through seductive skating routines that induce an irrepressible lust for anyone watching, reducing the audience to their basest urges. But that's not enough, oh no- this is a big job, and he needs his other agents of darkness in on it. But of course, Lucifer can't do anything through easy or ethical methods... Which also means there are those who oppose him. Who will skate for the side of good? Who will get screwed? And most importantly... who's going to win?





	1. The Virtue of the Devil is in the Loins

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this, this fic has been influenced by a variety of sources, mainly dark fantasy style novels like those of Anne Rice, Anne Bishop, Brian Lumely to name a few. I also have a soft spot for trashy romance novels, but reading this you probably can't tell. This fic is purely for entertainment purposes and should only be read by people who enjoy what dark fiction has to offer
> 
>  
> 
> This is the first time I've written anything so... big >.>
> 
>  
> 
> FIRST - a HUGE thank you, an unbelievably HUGE thank you to the following people: 
> 
> Narikopathfinder - for giving me earworms and ideas and giving me more work than what I needed :p  
> Gabapple - for encouraging me, and Beta'ing this monstrosity of a fic, and for letting me cry and whinge at her, AND FOR WRITING MY AMAZING SUMMARY!!!  
> Mer, Helle, Bee, and Topcatnikki - for attempting to Beta my fic - I'm sorry it was too much for you guys T^T
> 
> And a big thank you to everyone else not mentioned for encouraging me and helping me and listening to me meltdown over my fic.
> 
> A HUGE THANKYOU TO NEKOPHELIA FOR DRAWING AMAZING ART FOR MY FIC!!!! <http://nekophelia.tumblr.com/post/170957729888/my-piece-for-the-bigbangonice-event-i-got-paired>

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crushed by his loss in competition, young Viktor Nikiforov makes a deal with the Devil to become the greatest skater in the world - but at what cost?

Viktor looked up at the sky, grey and muted, a light dusting of snow gently falling, brushing against his face before melting. He let out a small sigh.

He’d lost.

He hadn’t made the podium. He’d over rotated on two of his jumps; perhaps it was nerves or not being confident enough… maybe the triple axel was a bit ambitious... He kicked at the snow on the ground. He’d worked _really_ hard for this competition, practiced until the blisters on his feet bled and he’d thrown up from exertion. Disappointment rose hot and bitter in the back of his throat and he could almost taste the bile once again.

Throwing his head back, Viktor let out a frustrated scream at the world, the tears finally coming, soothing the hot pin-pricks behind his eyes. Silvery blonde strands fell from his face, flecks of snow melting before touching his skin.

“I should have _won_!” he sobbed,  his throat constricting with the effort.

Legs going wobbly underneath him, he fell to his knees in the snow. A small figure alone against the backdrop of grey tones and softly falling snow.

The crunch of footsteps alerted him to the presence of another. He hurriedly wiped his face and struggled to his feet. It wouldn’t do him any good to be seen by an official, coach, or even his rink mates. He was supposed to be better than this. He took a deep breath to calm himself and looked to see who was approaching.

The man was tall, seeming to fill his vision, the background fading away. Dark button-up coat, black scarf to ward against the chill, dark trousers ending in black leather boots. _Sharp._

Viktor felt like recoiling, though he didn’t know why.

_Vitya_.

The voice that uttered the diminutive was warm, slowly wrapping around him like a caress. Viktor’s eyes widened slightly though he didn’t know why. He looked up into the stranger’s face and was immediately lost in eyes so dark that he felt like he was falling into nothingness. A feeling of cold, black emptiness swept over him and he shivered.

A gloved hand reached out to run a finger down the side of his cheek, cupping his chin to tilt his head further upwards, ensuring he was unable to look away. The hand felt impossibly hot, like it was burning his skin through the leather.

“Vitya, why the tears?”

The voice was soft, husky, like velvet brushing against his senses. He thought he could hear the beating of wings, or was it the thump of his heart in his chest?

Viktor swallowed hard, the words having difficulty forming. “I-I didn’t win.”

Thin lips curled into a small smile. “Did you want to win Vitya?” There was a pause, “Do you _want_ to win? Are you prepared to do _anything?_ ”

Viktor blinked, of course he wanted to win! Of course he’d do anything to win! Winning was _everything._ Ever since he could remember, he was told that he was destined for greatness, the expectation to win was steeped into his very name, Viktor Nikiforov. _Victory._

Those dark eyes continued to draw him in, everything else in his vision fading. He heard the rushing in his ears, the rustle of soft feathery wings, and he felt as if he was endlessly falling.

He tried to nod his head, but the fingers grasping his chin tightened almost painfully, forcing him to choke out the words. Fear followed quickly on the heels of the burst of anger he felt, just _who_ was this man who that touched him so familiarly, and forced him to respond?

“Yes.”

Viktor blinked as the air stilled around them and the chill deepened. He could feel it settling deep into his bones, icy fingers grabbing at his soul. The boy shivered.

The stranger released his grip on Viktor’s face and took a step back. Viktor blinked in confusion, was that it? Why on earth would some stranger care whether his desire to win was strong enough?

“Vitya, you better return now. Others will be looking for you, can you not hear them calling?”

Viktor looked around, now that he’d mentioned it, he _could_ hear someone calling his name. He turned back to look at the stranger.

But he was gone.

 

X---X---X---X---X---X---X

 

Viktor tossed and turned in bed. The thin sheet felt heavy against his body, his pajamas scratching against his feverish skin. He just felt so _hot_. He’d already kicked off the heavy duvet, and was now attempting to do the same to the sheet as he writhed on his bed. He didn’t understand why he felt so warm, had he caught a chill from being outside after the competition? Yakov would kill him if he got sick now...

He could hear the soft thump of beating wings, or was it the blood rushing through his ears?

_Vitya_.

A voice crooned through the darkness, whispered against his senses and rasped against his soul. It puddled in the pit of his stomach like warm-hued honey.

Viktor let out a strangled sounding gasp. He could feel heat curling through his body, snaking its way along his limbs and into his chest. He could feel it twist through his body; molten. He’d never felt sensations such as these; he could feel a twinge of fear as he felt his body respond in unfamiliar ways.

His back arched off the bed, silver blonde hair sticking to his feverish face, his turquoise eyes bright.

_Vitya… you promised… do you remember?_

Viktor’s head fell back against the pillow, his neck straining against the sensations the seductive words pulled from him, breathy puffs escaping from his lips.

_Anything Vitya… you said you would do anything…_

The feeling of feathery darkness enveloped him, the mattress sinking with additional weight. Viktor could feel a wave of panic rising within him, warring with the other sensations he was feeling. He could feel pressure all around him, a juxtaposition of fear and comfort.

A thumb, firm, yet gentle, applied pressure to his bottom lip, the flesh slowly being pulled downward until his mouth opened slightly, a breathy whine escaping from between his teeth. The thumb pad brushed against the skin of his lower lip, the warmth causing it to tingle, the sensation travelling downwards to add itself to the others.

Viktor’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he nuzzled towards the pressure.

_You want to win… don’t you, Vitya…_

The words wrapped themselves around his heart and squeezed until he thought that it would burst. A tongue lapped against his lower lip, before a mouth covered his. Hot. Insistent.

Viktor moaned against that mouth as the kiss seemed to pull the very air from his lungs until they burned, his moans changing to whimpers as the hot tongue entered his mouth, brushing against his own, tasting sweet and spicy, like mulled Christmas wine.

_I can make you win, Vitya…_

The words were whispered, hot breath fanning against the sensitive shell of his ear. Fingers slowly trailed their way down his body, a nail catching on the tiny nub of his nipple, wringing a small cry from his lips.

Viktor’s head lolled to the side, the long thin column of his neck exposed. Hot lips brushed against the pale flesh. His skin felt as if it was being touched by fire.

He could feel the fingers sinking lower, slipping under the waistband of his pajamas. A needy cry spilled from his lips as they brushed against parts of him that _throbbed._ He could feel his body responding, seeking out more of the sensations that made his mouth go dry with wanting more.

_Give this to me, Vitya…_

He could feel fingers pressing against him, lower. He arched into them.

_Give this to me... and I’ll make you win…_ _Do you want to win, Vitya?_

The words pulled at him. Those fingers pushed against him, seeking entrance.

_Ssssaaaaaayyyyy it, Viiityaaaaaa..._

A sibilant hiss.

He struggled to form the words, a mewl escaping as those fingers pushed past the tight ring of muscle and _touched_ him.

His body writhed, twisted. Those fingers coaxing the most delicious sensations from him, his own hands clutching and scrabbling against the mattress, filling him up and bringing him to the edge of reasoning. He wanted _more..._ he’d do _anything..._

_Viiiiiiiiityaaaaaaa…_

His name a sing-song lilt as those fingers worked inside him, stoking a fire that felt impossibly hot; he felt like he was going to burn from the inside out, leaving nothing but ash behind.

He shuddered, head thrown back; a keening wail ripped from his throat. Burning skin momentarily cooled by the spattering moisture.

Those fingers stilled, withdrew, leaving him feeling empty.

_Say it, Vitya. Tell me you want to win. Tell me you want thissssss…_

Something blunt and heavy pressed against flesh made sensitive by those fingers.

Viktor swallowed hard, as it pushed against him slowly. He whined, he mewled. His tears did nothing to douse the fire that threatened to consume him once more.

_Vitya_ …

It was a whisper in the darkness.

“YES!”

His scream ripped through him a fraction before Lucifer’s cock did.

Viktor didn’t think that such a thing was possible, but realisation slowly came to him, the feathers, the darkness, the _heat…_ Viktor had been penetrated by the Devil himself… he shrieked, and cried. He sobbed, and hiccupped his pleas until his throat was raw. Lucifer just laughed, low and throaty, as he thrust into the soft young body.

“You said you wanted this, Vitya,” he crooned, “You promised you would give me anything…” He grunted as he thrust again. “This is for me Vitya, only me…”

Viktor could only whimper… why did it hurt so much?

That hot hand cupped his face, the thumb brushing away the tears that fell, the heat making them evaporate with a faint hiss. “You will give me this, Vitya,” the Devil paused momentarily, seeming to revel in the way Viktor’s body clung to him, “And in return, you will never lose.”

The thrusts increased in pace and intensity, Viktor could feel them reaching up inside of him, touching him in places he didn’t know existed. The burning pain had given way to the same molten heat that had consumed him earlier, but this time burned hotter. Viktor thought that he might truly catch fire, immolate from the sheer intensity of the pleasure that was being wrung from his pliant body.

With an animalistic growl, Lucifer emptied himself deep inside the young boy, pulling another keening wail from Viktors lips as he shuddered against the feeling of the Devil’s seed inside him. A _delicious_ sensation that _burned_.

Viktor woke with a start, chest heaving, sucking the cool night air into his lungs. His hair was plastered against his face, stuck down with sweat, the bed sheets twisted around his lithe frame. He struggled to get up from his bed, sheets and pajamas tangling him up, causing him to fall to the floor with a loud thud. Scrabbling against the floor, he managed to untangle himself and raced for the bathroom, making it in time to vomit into the sink. His body rebelling against the knowledge that he’d done something inherently wrong… no matter good it had _felt._

He wiped his mouth and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Could he see the faint red marks against his skin that faded as he blinked? He pushed his hand between his legs, half expecting it to come away with slick moisture… but there was nothing. Even his stomach, where he knew that there should have been some kind of… evidence, was dry. What kind of dream did he just have? He struggled to hang onto the memories, but the harder he tried, the more they flitted away beyond his reach. He splashed some cool water onto his face, staring once more at his reflection, searching. As vivid as the dream had seemed, how _real_ it had felt, it was nothing more than a ghosting of sensation; a faint feeling of warmth that was soon replaced by the cool night air

Padding back to his bedroom, he rearranged the sheets back onto his bed, sliding under the covers once more, curling himself into a ball against the chill that was settling into his body. It had been a nasty dream; a vivid nightmare… he closed his eyes, his body feeling heavy.

_Vitya._

His name whispered into the darkness, the sound like wind blowing away a pile of ash.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been years since Viktor sold his soul, and things have been good. So good. He's found life and love, and a legacy of gold medals; what more could he want? Really, he should have expected that his benefactor would come to collect....

Yakov watched the young boy lazily skate around the rink, seemingly lost in his own little world. A small smile touched his gruff features; perhaps losing had been good for Viktor. The boy definitely had talent and, with a bit more hard work, he would definitely become a force to be reckoned with. The child had become complacent, perhaps he didn’t think he had to work as hard; it didn’t matter that he was the best junior skater in Russia, he had been shown that he wasn’t the best outside of it.

A thud alerted Yakov to another part of the rink where Georgi had just fallen. The old man felt a twinge of guilt for not noticing what jump he’d missed, but he still barked out across the ice, “Georgi! What was that supposed to be?

The dark-haired boy scrambled back to his feet, his cheeks red from exertion and embarrassment. Yakov tutted under his breath, Georgi was certainly trying, but he lacked the polish of his slightly older counterpart, and it didn’t matter how much Yakov tried to polish him; he never seemed to shine as brightly as Viktor.

Despite this, Georgi had been doing better than Viktor; scoring higher in the competitions that actually mattered, especially the last one. Yakov was worried when Viktor had disappeared after the competition. Not only had he lost, but he had lost to Georgi; that alone would have definitely wounded the boy’s pride. Viktor was showy and flashy, winning most of his points for artistic merit. Georgi was solid in his technique, but lacked the expressiveness required to convey the message behind his skating.

Yakov clapped his hands together. “Enough, I want to see those triples that you both failed, and I want you to do them until you have them right this time!”

Both skaters seemed to have the artistic aspects of their routines down pat; both had failed during their more technical jumps, and of course those who were slightly older, stronger, and had more experience had managed more difficult jumps, and thus had scored higher. Viktor had over-rotated on two of his jumps, and Georgi had touched the ice. They would need to work on these things if they had any hope of placing outside of Russia.

He watched the two set off across the ice, building up speed and momentum to execute their jumps. Viktor landed cleanly; Georgi wobbled, but managed to stay upright… and so it went, Yakov watching with a critical eye. He frowned, there was something about the way Viktor was jumping, each one seemingly technically perfect, each one a carbon copy of the one before it. Georgi was showing steady improvement with each repetition, his face a mask of concentration and effort; a stark contrast to Viktor’s, which looked almost _bored._

Yakov shook his head, it’s not like he could yell at Viktor for looking bored. He clapped his hands once more. “Enough! Warm down!” He wasn’t going to be able to push them any further for the day, Georgi already looked to be at his limit, and Viktor was just hiding it better. He watched the two boys skate together, talking to each other as they did so; Georgi’s face was earnest and pleading, whilst Viktor had just stuck his nose in the air. Yakov chuckled, perhaps some friendly rivalry would spur them on.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Viktor could feel Georgi’s eyes on him the whole time they were training together; he was desperate to not make eye contact with his friend and rival. He could feel the younger boy’s stare, like it was trying to drill a hole in the back of his head. It made Viktor feel... _guilty_ … _Why would I have anything to be guilty over? It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong…_ Perhaps he just felt guilty about the fact that he was doing his best to _avoid_ Georgi.

“Are you okay, Vitya?” Georgi’s face is a mask of concern and worry for his friend. Viktor’s eyes widened slightly, did Georgi know about… Viktor could feel his stomach twisting in knots.

Viktor swallowed thickly, trying to quell the anxiousness building up inside him, before answering curtly, “I’m fine,” and attempted to skate further ahead to avoid the conversation altogether. He didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but his thoughts were a sea of turmoil in his mind.

Georgi skated faster to catch up, hand reaching out in a comforting gesture that Viktor neatly dodged. He could see the hurt flash momentarily over Georgi’s face. “Are you sure that everything is okay? I mean, I thought you might’ve been upset...”

“I said there’s nothing wrong!” Viktor gritted his teeth against the rising tide of frustration. “Why won’t you just believe me?!” His pale face was flushed with anger.

Georgi bit his lip. “You seem, _different_ Vitya…”

The boy waved his hands helplessly. Viktor scowled, of course he was _different_ , the confusing dream that he had, and now his body seemingly moved on its own across the ice. Those jumps were perfect, and he knew deep in his heart, that he couldn’t have done that many without a mistake. He quickly pushed the thought away, burying the doubts in the back of his mind.

“You’re just jealous that I’m better than you now! I don’t need someone like you holding me back all the time!”

Viktor knew that he’d said something truly hurtful, but it was too late to take the words back. He should apologise, say something, but an awkward silence hung between them. Neither boy said anything, and eventually Georgi turned away, his eyes bright with tears, leaving Viktor alone on the ice.

Viktor swallowed hard a few times, trying to push down the lump that was fast rising in his throat, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes to stop his own tears from falling. Georgi was one of the only friends he had, and he’d pushed him away through guilt and fear…

_Viiiiityaaaaa._

Viktor’s head shot up and he looked around wildly for the source of the whisper, and realised that he now was the only person in the rink.

 _You don’t need friends, Viiiityaaa, you have_ me _now…_

The whisper was soft and seductive, wrapping around his heart and calming his thoughts. It was right, he had a _different_ friend now, one that was going to help him win.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

It became clear over the coming months that Viktor Nikiforov was indeed on his way to becoming the best figure skater that the world had ever seen. Each competition was technically flawless; poetry in motion, and he quickly rose in the public eye. He had garnered the reputation for being cold and aloof, his interviews rehearsed, until they, too, were flawless. The question on everyone’s lips: just who was the real Viktor Nikiforov? Yakov snorted as he read the latest article that was trying to interpret Viktor’s latest skating routine. If only they knew the half of it.

When Viktor had won his first gold medal, Yakov had been ecstatic, proud in the knowledge that he had been proved right in regards to Viktor’s talent. At first he’d thought that the rivalry between the two boys had been responsible, but as the months continued, it was obvious that Viktor was leaving Georgi behind, to the point where it was useless to have the two of them on the ice at the same time. Georgi would just stare forlornly at Viktor as he watched him skate, and then his own skating was badly affected. Yakov frowned. Surely they would get over whatever it was eventually, but he didn’t have time to be coddling Georgi’s heartbreak, not when it was obvious that Viktor was succeeding where Georgi was not.

An unease settled over Yakov as he pondered the deteriorating relationship between the two boys. Viktor had certainly changed; as he continued to win, the happiness that he had once expressed over his skating had slowly morphed into boredom. The smiles he showed for the audience and the cameras was not the same smile that he’d exhibited when he’d first skated out onto the ice and landed his first jump successfully.

Yakov sighed softly. Viktor was wowing the world with his beautiful routines; he was giving inspiration to a new breed of figure skaters as competitors attempted to match him. His routines were almost awe-inspiring, speaking to the audience of love and beauty; Viktor was a picture of ethereal exquisiteness on the ice. People had begun contacting Yakov and demanding, _begging_ that he help them with their routines… Yakov frowned at the thought. He would have agreed, but that would mean admitting that he had nothing to do with Viktor’s routines; anyone who joined his stable of competitors would learn the truth soon enough.  

Yakov had stopped choreographing Viktor’s routines when it became clear that the young man didn’t need his help. In fact, Yakov wasn’t sure _what_ his purpose was, as he certainly wasn’t _coaching_ Viktor to do anything. The boy would come to the rink, eyes bright with fervour, and just skate. In the beginning, he’d at least ask Yakov if he approved, and when questioned about where he got the idea from, Viktor would look askance and mutter something about it how he “dreamt it.” Now, Viktor just skated whatever he wanted, and all Yakov could do was follow along helplessly. It didn’t really matter as long as he was winning.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

It was a drink, a toast to times old and new. Yakov raised his glass. “Five times, Vitya, you’re a five time world champion. Russia is proud.”

Viktor smiled warmly at his coach, and took a mouthful of his own drink. It wasn’t just the world championships; it was literally _everything_. He had won gold at Worlds, the Grand Prix, the Nationals, even the Olympics ...but it was nice that Yakov was drunk enough to omit those details.

The Sochi banquet was the same as all the others, a mixture of celebration and networking; Yakov used them to attract new students, but it seemed that he was less interested this year; Yuri Plisetsky was keeping the old man busy. Viktor studied the contents of his glass before taking another swallow. Yuri was everything that Viktor was at the same age, perhaps even more. He had the same effortless grace, except Viktor had seen how hard the youngster worked at it; he put more effort into his skating than Viktor ever had.

Viktor looked over the people in the room; his _rivals_ were all milling about, making new connections, re-establishing old ones, and just generally trying to unwind after a particularly hard season… for some of them. There was a bit of a commotion around the dance floor, enough of a distraction at least for Viktor to pay attention to what was going on… and he had to laugh, Yuuri Katsuki, the Japanese skater was… definitely drunk. He smiled into his glass as he watched the man shimmy his way across the floor, and found himself openly staring at the way the movements were unreserved, unashamed, and definitely _sexy._

Viktor was only slightly shocked, he would’ve remembered if someone had moved like that during the skating, but for the life of him couldn’t remember. He was entranced, something about Yuuri spoke to him on a visceral level, touched his soul and breathed new life into something he was sure was cold and dead inside him. This man shone a light into the darkness he thought was all but impenetrable; Viktor could feel something like a dam bursting inside him. When this night was over, he vowed to find this man again. If anyone could save him from himself, it was Yuuri Katsuki.

And find him he did, leaving Russia in the middle of everything, telling Yakov that this was something important to him (not that he could stop him anyway), and getting on the next plane to Japan after witnessing the Japanese skater pulling off his Free Skate on youtube. Viktor could feel the nervous energy bubbling inside him, unsure of what it meant, but willing to risk everything for it. Anything was better than continuing his life and skating as he was now, a broken, empty shell with nothing but dust inside him.

Under his guidance and coaching Yuuri had blossomed, and so did his love. The more time he spent in Japan and with Yuuri, the more Viktor became convinced that this pure, shining love he felt would somehow fill in the cracks and make him feel whole again. At first he tried to keep Yuuri at arm’s length, worried that the darkness inside would somehow taint everything around him, but slowly and surely, Yuuri stuck by him, coaxed, and cajoled him along, and told him, “ _Never take your eyes off me._

All the while, in the back of his mind, he worried that it wouldn’t last, that he would have another _dream_ and that it would all come crashing down around him. The voice that had dogged him for the last fifteen years was strangely silent, allowing him to hope that perhaps it was all over, he was after all, the best skater there ever was.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Viktor moved lazily out onto the ice. It was a rare moment that he got to use the rink just for himself, but it was one of his conditions for making his comeback at the Russian Nationals: that he had at least an hour for personal use, not even Yuri or Yakov were allowed to watch him during his practice session. He spun slowly, lost in his thoughts. Yuuri, his precious Yuuri, had gotten a silver medal; he’d coached him to get to that point… Yuuri could’ve easily gotten there without his help, but his anxious love just needed the right kind of push. They’d parted after the Grand Prix, with promises of being together after Nationals, so that they could both focus, Viktor especially; after all, he only had two weeks to prepare.

Pulling himself together, Viktor idly moved through a step sequence, getting used to the feeling before he begun moving with greater purpose, building up speed over the ice.

Methodically he began his jumps: first singles, then doubles, then triples… quadruples… everything was perfect and flawless. He was even nailing the triple axel, something that should have been on the very edge of his capabilities. He chewed his bottom lip and made another lap around the rink before attempting his next jump. Gathering his legs underneath him, he felt the muscles of his thighs bunch and he thrust himself into the air. One rotation, two, three, four… _and a half_ . He landed the quad axel neatly. The realisation hit him a fraction of a second later. He’d just done one of the hardest, no, _impossible_ jumps a figure skater could attempt.

Viktor set off over the ice once more, gathering speed before attempting a different jump; one rotation, two, three, four… _five._ He landed cleanly, the momentum nearly sending him into the wall. He stopped suddenly, sending up a shower of ice. He was breathing heavily, was it exertion? Shock? As far as he was concerned, he’d just done the impossible. Five rotations for a jump.

He shook his head at himself and skated around the rink once more, and jumped again. And again. Each jump perfect. Flawless... and with five rotations.

Nobody would even have a _chance_ at winning.

He felt the familiar stirrings of anticipation. He would be able to perform once more, he’d be able to show the world something new and _surprise_ them all. Deep in his heart, Viktor was a performer, he lived for the show, and what a show it would be...

Realisation rose up, bitter in the back of his throat, making his mouth taste like ash. He’d thought, perhaps however futilely, that he was free… but of course, his world records had been broken, by both Yuri Plisetsky, and Yuuri Katsuki; was it coincidence that they were the two most important people in his life? He felt an irrational tide of anger rise up within him, one that threatened to swamp any feelings of goodwill towards the pair; after all, he still _needed_ to be the greatest skater that ever was.

  


X----X----X----X----X----X

 

 _Viiiiiiiityaaaaaaa_ . _”_

The whisper was a caress in the darkness. Viktor shuddered. He could feel the familiar heat coil through his body. Part of him had _missed_ this. He could feel his body writhing in anticipation of what was to come.

_Did you think I had forgotten about you?_

Viktor’s mouth went dry. Part of him _had_ thought that he’d been forgotten about; that same part twisted within him… how he _needed_ this.

How he _deserved_ it.

_Poor Viiiiitya, preeecious Viiitya… Did you miss me?_

He felt the familiar weight, the feathery darkness surrounding him; his skin felt so sensitive that even the slightest breath of air set his core aflame. He moaned into that darkness, feeling himself getting painfully hard at the thought of what was to come. Had it really been over a year since he last felt this? He hadn’t realised that it was like an addiction, that he had been _craving_ this touch the whole time… that anything he’d felt with Yuuri was a poor imitation of what he was feeling right now…

A warm hand cupped his face, tilted his chin upwards so that hotter lips could capture his own, and the smooth taste of cinnamon and cloves filled his mouth as a rough tongue swiped against his own. Viktor moaned again, louder, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, arms wrapping around the firm muscular body that was pinning him down. A dry, throaty chuckle washed over him, the breath caressing the sensitive flesh of his ear, making him whine high and needy. He felt additional pressure against his pelvis, a firm touch around his aching cock.

_Do you need this, Vitya? Look how you weep for me…_

And Viktor did, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and precum oozing from his slit. Every part of his body was leaking, waiting, begging.  He choked out a sob as a thumb brushed over his tip, gathering the slick before sliding it down his shaft. He arched into the embrace, fingers digging into the shoulders above him, his head finding the space between the neck and the shoulder. Viktor breathed the delicious musky scent that made his body burn hotter, his need burn brighter; a wordless cry escaped his lips as the fingers moved lower, briefly cupping his balls, a borderline painful squeeze that just made him writhe and moan before brushing across the sensitive flesh beneath.

Viktor could feel his mind fracturing. Part of him was panting and moaning, seeking out the torturous heat that was steadily engulfing him… and the other part was horrified at the truth of what was happening… but it wasn’t enough to jolt him from what was happening. He loved Yuuri. Yuuri was going to save him from _this,_ was _supposed_ to save him from this...He could feel his helplessness swirling through him, rising up and washing over him. He could feel part of himself disappearing into that maelstrom, and just as he felt the searing pain of fingers entering him…

His mind broke.

Viktor pushed himself onto those fingers, a voice he didn’t recognise moaned in abandon, words spilling from his lips that begged for more.

A hand snaked its way through his hair, fisting itself at the back and pulling his head back to expose his throat. Sharp teeth nipped at the pale flesh and Viktor just moaned louder, grinding himself on the fingers that were still deep inside him.

_Ah, Vitya, look how you need me right here…_

The deep, gravelly voice punctuated his statement with a particularly vicious thrust and all Viktor could do was babble incoherently, while inside his own head he screamed and clawed at the walls of his mind. 

Those fingers found the sweet spot hidden inside him and began to work it. Viktor felt the familiar flames and heat inside him, burning hotter and brighter with each caress. He gripped the shoulders above him as tight as he could, his nails scrabbling at the broad muscular back, as a hot, wet tongue teased the shell of his ear, and an equally hot breath fanned across the moisture it had left behind.

_Come for me, Vitya, give yourself over to me…_

The words coupled with the sensations that he was feeling tipped him over the edge. With a shuddering cry, his back arched until he thought it might break and he could feel his muscles contract painfully, sending thick spatters of white over his chest.

He lay there, chest heaving and tears sliding down his flushed cheeks. Was it over?

A thumb tenderly wiped the tears from his face, following their trail down to his chin before a hand gripped it hard, forcing him to look up into that face. Dark eyes that pierced his soul and made him feel like he was falling forever, captured his own and held him in their gaze.

_I know you’re still in there, Vitya, did you think you could escape from me by hiding in the corners of your mind?_

Viktor could feel himself compelled, the heavy feeling of his body came back to him as he returned to his senses; the delicious sting of his abused hole, the raspy feeling of his throat an indication that all he’d done was moan and cry in sheer lust. He swallowed hard against the fear rising within him.

The hand released its grip on his chin and patted his cheek, _Good boy, Vitya, and now, you’ll get your reward…_

Those words set his soul aflame once more and Viktor could feel his legs being spread, his hips being angled, and that blunt pressure against his bud. Before he could even utter a sound, the blunt head pushed itself past the tight ring of flesh and he could feel himself being filled.

 A breathy moan escaped his lips, and he instinctively wrapped his legs around Lucifer’s hips, trying to draw him in closer, deeper, part of him wanting to lose himself once more. He could feel the blunt head of the cock inside him scrape against the sensitive bundle of nerves that had been abused earlier; it made him shudder and twitch, and he could feel himself swelling to hardness once more.

A few slow thrusts stoked the new heat that pooled within him. Viktor could feel himself arching into those thrusts, wanting to be filled more, wanting to _feel_ more. Strong hands gripped his thighs, and he could feel himself being moved into a new position, being rearranged to suit… his arse high in the air, and his cheek pushed down into the bed beneath them. Those same hands now gripped his hips, and he could feel himself open up and accept more of Lucifer’s thick length.

  _I know this is what you wanted to feel, Vitya. Does it not feel good to be speared by me?_

 Viktors only response was to moan loudly, grip the sheets and thrust his hips back, wanting to fit as much as possible inside him. Viktor could feel himself disappearing into his own head once more, the assault on his senses too much to bear. He felt additional pressure in the small of his back, forcing his arse even higher, a strong hand pushing his shoulders into the bed. Hot breath blew against the shell of his ear and a throaty chuckle made his stomach clench.

 A _re you hiding from me again, Vitya?_  

The question was punctuated by a vicious thrust that made him cry out his need. The words dripped like honey, warm and cloying, and wrapped themselves around his soul.

 _You know you can’t hide from me, Vitya, I own you… I own your_ soul.

Lucifer undulated his hips, rolling them to find that spot deep within Viktor, a keening wail and desperate scrabbling his reward for finding it.

“P-please…” Viktor was begging, but for what?

The grip on his hip tightened, a hand fisted into his hair and used it to bend his body backwards until he was bowed against firm muscles and velvet flesh, hot breath prickling at the skin of his neck as sharp teeth nipped the feverish skin. Long, slow thrusts reached up inside him, and his arms reached up behind himself to grab onto the shoulders that were supporting him. A firm arm reached around his chest, pausing to flick a fingernail over a nipple, the other arm snaking low and tight over his hips to hold him steady.

The thrusts increased in pace and intensity, a cycle fueled by Viktors short high moans with each one, his skin shiny with sweat, and hair plastered to his face, his eyes glazed over.

He could feel the tension building, the heat that threatened to burn him to ash, every nerve ending on fire. His cry was hoarse, his orgasm literally fucked out of him, when the Devil’s molton seed filled him to the brim, burning trails down his thighs.

Viktor fell forward, Lucifer’s weight pressing him into the bed. The feathery darkness surrounded him, cocooning him from the world.

_Vitya, you are mine now, you always have been. Sleep, Vitya. When you awaken, the world will be new._

Viktors eyes felt heavier than they’d ever been, he felt himself falling into a darkness that seemed to stretch on forever. The feathery feeling felt warm. Safe.

_Falling._

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

The hot water felt good against his skin as it washed away the sweat and slick left behind. He made sure to clean every inch of his skin; his pale flesh now pink from the heat and scrubbing. A momentary pause under the heat before he reached to turn the taps off. The bathroom was silent except for the _drip_ of water droplets. 

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded over to the bathroom vanity, looking carefully over himself, assessing the damage. His neck was bruised, purple from the bite marks, red lines from nails marked his skin… he watched them slowly fade until his skin was porcelain once more, pure and untouched.

A smile quirked his lips, his turquoise eyes bright with mirth as he pushed the damp silver hair away from his face.

Lucifer chuckled.

As far as bodies went, _this_ was one of his better ones.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one expects the fiery performance of returning champion Viktor Nikiforov at Russian Nationals, or the strange effect that it has on the audience. Least especially the embittered Yuri Plistetsky, who suspects that there's more to this than Viktor's letting on.

The Yekaterinburg rink was quiet, the lighting muted, shedding a soft glow over the ice. Lucifer ran a hand through the damp silvery strands of hair that covered his face and pushed them back. It had been a while since he’d occupied a body, and he was still getting the _feel_ of it. Skating the routine had been the easy part, executing the jumps even easier now that he was in full control. He liked the way Viktor’s body felt, all hard muscle with lithe flexibility. The man was certainly in his prime, and he hadn’t lost much in the way of condition whilst he was coaching… there was something to be said for being as hands-on as he was.

Lucifer had enjoyed watching Viktor, biding his time for when he could claim the soul that was promised to him all those years ago; all the while, a plan forming in his mind on how he could cause the downfall of mankind once more. After all, he couldn’t be the epitome of evil if he wasn’t plotting something.

The fight against evil was something that had been going on for millennia; something before the time of man itself, when there were only angels and demons. The world had become both a playground and battleground; the fight for supremacy never far from anyone’s mind. Sometimes evil triumphed over good, and other times good over evil… Lucifer chuckled, it wasn’t so much the _winning_ that he enjoyed, rather it was how the game was played. One of his lesser demons had given him an idea for this new round of armageddon; it was subtle and unexpected and perhaps it would give them the edge needed to succeed.

The actual competition would be where he would test out the plan. If everything went the way it should, then it would be easy enough to put the other parts of the plan into action. If things didn’t work out… well, he had a shiny new body to explore the world with until he got bored, and then he’d leave Viktor to himself, most likely a broken man, but he’d have taken his soul, and that’s all that mattered.

“Vitya!” Lucifer’s musings were disturbed by an angry cry across the stadium and he turned to see who was shouting out to him. “Yakov wants to know if you’re finished with your _secret_ practice.” The words were said with a sneer. “Not that it’s going to help you anyway, because we both know that I’m going to beat you.”

Lucifer snorted, “We _both_ know that you’re largely full of shit, _Yura_. You only won because I wasn’t there, AND because you skated a routine that I made for you.”

Yuri had closed the distance between them, the hood of his jacket was up, and his hands were rebelliously shoved into his pockets.

“You just keep telling yourself that old man…” Yuri’s glare was more from embarrassment rather than dislike; after all, he was a teenager; fighting against the world and everything in it, it seemed. “I just need to beat you here, and then you can retire and go back to your piggy.”

The words were said without venom, but still carried a small sting. Lucifer might be controlling Viktor’s body, but Viktor was still responding to the things happening around them.

Lucifer’s hand snaked out to grip Yuri’s chin, forcing him to look upwards and into Viktor’s eyes.

“Careful, _Yura_ . That _piggy_ could have beaten you without the fancy tricks you pulled for the points.” Lucifer gave a small squeeze for emphasis before releasing his grip. “You can tell _Yasha_ that he can have the rink for the rest of the day… I will be… resting in my room at the hotel should anyone require my attention.”

He left Yuri there, heading off to the change rooms to rid himself of his skates and sweaty clothes, guards tapping softly as he walked. There were certainly a lot of things to think about and prepare for.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri watched Viktor’s disappearing form. _“Well, that was new…”_ sharp eyes narrowed at the thought. There was nothing wrong with Viktor having called him “Yura,” he’d done it ever since he’d joined Yakov’s team, but to call Yakov _Yasha_ , that was unheard of. If the old man had heard it, he’d have a heart attack on the spot, and if he’d survived that, he would use Viktor’s naked body to smooth out the ice in lieu of the machine that did it.

He chewed his bottom lip. Viktor wasn’t different… but he _was_ different _._ In a way, his romance with Yuuri, the Japanese skater, had been good for him. It had brought a light to his eyes and spring to his step. The change was noticeable to _him;_ the Viktor he knew was the master at pretending, the consummate performer, not the one no one saw when he thought that nobody was looking; the Viktor that had come back drunk one night and couldn’t seem to stop crying. Apparently not drunk enough to talk about _why_ he was so upset, but drunk enough to let the mask slip… and the next day when Yuri had tried to talk to him about it, Viktor just looked at him, puzzled, and told him that there was nothing wrong.

Yuri shook his head to clear it, turning on his heel to trot back to where Yakov was waiting outside. Viktor might be making his comeback at this competition, but it didn’t mean that he was going to _win._

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

The air was crisp, the sky clear. It was a seemingly perfect day, a perfect time to see if his plan was going to work. It was always good to be able to wreak havoc on seemingly perfect days, nobody saw it coming. Lucifer was sitting quietly, letting the chaos of the competition move around him, a small smile playing around his lips. A tap on his shoulder caught his attention.

“Vitya, are you actually prepared for this?” Yakov’s gruff voice was quiet. “If this is a stunt…”

Lucifer gave the old man a bright smile. “It will be amazing, you’ll see. The world will be shocked!”

Yakov glared, “As long as the world isn’t shocked because you’ve _failed_ so badly. Vitya. There is hype and there is _hype._ There is nothing worse than not living up to the expectations you’ve set up. It’s not just _you_ who will look bad, it will be _all of us_!”

Lucifer patted him on the shoulder, an attempt to be reassuring. It seemed that Viktor’s disappearance to dabble in coaching had affected the old man somewhat. Yakov had most definitely been subjected to some close scrutiny; unable to control Viktor or prevent him from leaving… the only thing that had softened _that_ blow had been Yuri’s achievements.  

Lucifer smiled again, a predatory gleam lighting his eyes. “Worry not, _Yasha,_ I will win, and I will win _well._ ”

Yakov shivered despite himself. The aura around Viktor had changed in the last few days. It had taken on a wolfish quality, subtle but dangerous. So dangerous feeling that he couldn’t even bring himself to take Viktor to task over calling him _Yasha_ , as disrespectful as it was. He settled for pulling the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck, as if to ward off the chill of the ice.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Standing out in the middle of the ice, the stadium was quiet. The moment of silence before his performance started. He was the last skater as per his request. The little Ice Tiger had performed brilliantly, far ahead of the competition. His score hadn’t been quite as good as that in the Grand Prix, but still quite high; it would be a solid win… if it wasn’t for him. Viktor smiled wide, predatory, settling himself into his starting pose and waited for the music to start.

His short program costume was subtle in its design, a deep purple that highlighted his pale features and brought out the blue in his eyes. The diamontes sparkled in the spotlights, setting off the silver of his hair. It was classic and conservative in comparison to others he had worn; but it still tightly hugged his limbs and brought attention to the play of his muscles beneath the material.

The music started and Viktor's body flowed like shimmery liquid through the movements. The initial roar of the spectators settled to an awed hush. His movements appearing as if effortless and graceful, the audience caught up in the _otherworldly_ performance. Even the commentators were muted, only commenting to call out his step sequences and positions; they were stunned into silence, jarred from their usual running commentary of performances… and Viktor hadn’t even jumped yet.

A subtle shift in the music captured the audience, had them leaning forward to see more of his performance, and it was then that he started his jump sequences. Each one was perfectly executed to a smattering of applause; everyone too enraptured, too afraid to break the spell he was weaving over them. With a crescendo of music and a final jump, his performance was complete. A moment of stunned silence before the eruption of applause and cheering thundered through the stadium, that continued long after Viktor had left the ice.

He sat with Yakov at the Kiss and Cry, that small smile playing around his lips, which became heart shaped for the cameras and reporters, ducking his head so that his bangs hid the small blush that stained his cheeks, for all the world looking like a humble champion, shocked at his own performance and comeback. However, as far as Lucifer was concerned, nothing could be further from the truth; the whole thing a shameless act for the benefit of the audience and the cameras, Yakov fielding questions from reporters as they waited for the scores.

He’d placed first. Broken the world record that Yuri Plisetsky had broken earlier - not by a narrow margin either- he hadn’t even resorted to any fancy “tricks.” Just executed a flawless performance.

“See _Yasha_ , I told you that everything would be fine.” The smirk on Viktor’s face looked slightly out of place. It was not an expression that Yakov had ever seen before… sure Viktor had smirked and looked smug, but there was always a crinkling around his eyes that shone with mirth. Now his eyes looked cold and flat, that predatory look that seemed to have overtaken him. Lucifer caught Yakov studying him and gave him the brilliant smile that Viktor was famous for, just as they read out his score.

124.35

The crowd erupted with cheers once more. Yuri Plisetsky’s world record had been thoroughly broken. Even Yakov’s usually stoic face and cracked under the weight of that score. “Vitya!” he breathed, obviously as shocked as the rest of the world would be right now. Lucifer just smiled and shrugged, a finger poised over his lips as he gave the old man a wink that said _I told you so._

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

There was a pounding on the door of the hotel room, insistent and demanding. “Viktor! Open this door right now!”

Lucifer gave a small sigh, unfolding himself from his position on the couch. He thought that something like this would eventually happen, he just didn’t think it would be so soon.

“Viktor! I know you’re in there!” The pounding became louder, a touch of desperation with each thump.

It appeared that he’d broken Yuri with his performance, and now the Ice Tiger was thumping on his door, demanding an audience with him. Lucifer smiled rapaciously and licked his lips. He schooled Viktor’s face into one of boredom and opened the door.

“ _Yura!_ What a _pleasant_ surprise! Fancy seeing you here in the hotel!” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“Fuck you old man!” Yuri pushed the door open further, storming inside the room, before whirling around to face Viktor, his eyes glittering with emotion, his finger in the air, stabbing into the space between the two of them. “Don’t think that you’re going to win tomorrow!  I don’t care if your Short Program score was a fucking world record, I don’t fucking care! I WILL beat you tomorrow!” Yuri’s chest was heaving from the effort of spitting out the words. “You will fall into a fucking hole and DIE, you’ll fuck up your jumps, fail the landings, your fucking hair will FALL OUT!”

Lucifer chuckled. “My hair will fall out?”

He slowly advanced towards the small Russian skater, backing him across the room while he stuttered insults and worked himself up. Yuri’s eyes widened slightly and he stopped mid-tirade as the back of his legs found the edge of the bed, sitting down heavily on the mattress. He looked up at Viktor as the older man closed the distance, effectively pinning him to the bed with his body, a knee between his thighs and a hand in the middle of his chest as he leaned over him.

“Viktor…” Yuri struggled slightly, trying to push Viktor’s hand off him, the old man seemed to be stronger than what he gave him credit for, and the hand in the middle of his chest felt like it was going to burn through his clothes and into his skin… “Viktor, your hand is fucking… _burning!”_

He looked up into eyes so blue that they seemed to glow… had his eyes always been that blue? Yuri swallowed, his insults forgotten as he felt himself falling into those eyes.

Lucifer licked his lips, _hungrily,_ shifting his knee so that it rubbed up against the inside of Yuri’s thigh.

“ _Yura,_ did anyone tell you that your eyes turn green when you’re angry?” His voice was low, gravelly, and laden with promise.

Yuri blinked, his mouth opening slightly to protest. The warmth from Viktor’s hand on his chest seemed to spread through his body, making him feel heavy; the contact on the inside of his thigh burned hotter in contrast. He went to shift his body away from the touch, but ended up sliding his thigh closer to Viktor’s, subconsciously seeking more. Whatever words that he wanted to say died on his lips before he could have a chance to utter them; Viktor’s hand had slid underneath the hem of his shirt, fingers lightly playing across the smooth skin of his stomach.

“ _Vitya?”_ his voice was small, the name barely above a whisper.

“Hmmmmm? _Yurochka?”_ Lucifer continued to stroke Yuri’s skin, almost like he was patting a cat. Fingers imperceptibly creeping higher under the shirt.

Yuri felt confused. Sure Viktor had indulged in light touches before, but nothing like _this._ He could feel the heat in his body beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach, just under where Viktor’s fingers were moving against his skin, new and slightly unfamiliar. Those blue eyes just stared down at him, watching him, like they were waiting for something. The look in those eyes just made the heat pool faster: an answering tug in his groin. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the shock of his arousal, one hand wrapping around Viktor’s forearm, the other pushing against the older man’s chest.

“ _Vitya!”_ The word came out as a whimper as he arched his back off the bed, his hips sliding forward until Viktor’s knee was squarely between them.

Lucifer purred, low and throaty. “So bold _Yurochka,_ did you _want_ something?”

He leaned forward, running his nose up the side Yuri’s neck, breathing the fresh scent of skin…

A banging at the door. “Viktor!”

Lucifer’s breath hissed between his teeth as the banging continued.

The interruption was enough to galvanise Yuri into action; shoving Viktor aside, he scrambled off the bed. Making a beeline for the door, he flung it open in his haste, startling Georgi mid-knock.

“Ah, Yura, I didn’t know that you were here too…”

“Fuck off, you emo shit!” Yuri snarled as he pushed past and stormed down the hallway, leaving Georgi looking slightly bewildered.

“Uh… was he just… um… _hard_?” Georgi looked between Yuri’s disappearing figure and Viktor who had now appeared in the open doorway.

Lucifer gave a nonchalant shrug as he leaned on the doorframe.“Rage Boner. He barged in here, gave me a lecture about how I was old, bald and a loser, and how he was going to win the free skate and thus the gold medal…” he gave a smirk. “...and I told him how unlikely that would be.”  

Georgi nodded slowly. “I was just coming past to… say congratulations… that was a rather impressive short program…” He gave Viktor a weak smile. “... and to let you know that Yakov wants to make sure that you’re well rested for tomorrow.”

It was a bit of a lame finish, but Georgi was beginning to feel flustered under Viktor’s scrutiny. He couldn’t remember the last time Viktor had such an intense look on his face.

Lucifer reached out and patted Georgi on the shoulder as he pushed himself off the door frame, “You can tell _Yasha_ that I will be _extremely_ well rested for tomorrow, and to not worry. My free skate will be just as good as my short program… maybe even a little better.” He gave Georgi a wink. “Was there anything else that you wanted, _Gosha_?”

Georgi’s widened. Viktor hadn’t called him that since they were children. “Uh, um, n-no? I don’t think so?”

He dipped his head in farewell and hurried back down the hallway to where his own room was. His cheeks were flushed and he felt a little bewildered. Viktor didn’t usually have that sort of effect on him… maybe it was just that he’d been away for so long, and that he’d skated so _perfectly_ and… and… he was mortified to find that he’d gotten hard.

Back in his room, Yuri had thrown himself onto the bed in disgust, curling himself around one of the pillows as he hugged it. He felt bone-weary, more tired than what he should have been after a competition. The confusing feelings that he had felt earlier were fading, leading him to question whether he’d felt them at all… it was _Viktor_ after all, it’s not like he had _those_ sorts of feelings for him… what feelings again? There were no feelings… Viktor was just a shitty old man, with shitty thinning hair and a shitty skating routine… he yawned into the pillow. Tomorrow during the free skate, he’d show the old man who the better skater was…

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

The placings couldn’t have been better. Yuri was in second, Georgi was in third, and Viktor had yet to skate, but Yakov assumed that he would come first. He couldn’t have been prouder of his skaters, to have the top three at the Nationals, all under his coaching; it boosted his prestige phenomenally, especially with records being broken. The shame of having Viktor run off to Japan was most definitely erased with these results. Yakov didn’t even try to hide the grin and triumphant look on his face.

Out on the ice, the silence of the stadium was nearly oppressive, collective breaths held in anticipation. Lucifer smirked. They were already surprised at his costume; nobody had guessed that he was wearing such a thing under his Team Russia jacket, surprised that he’d even managed to hide the coattails that had unfolded when he’d removed it. The rest of this costume was fine, nothing out of the ordinary; the tight fitting black pants, the spiral of sequins accentuating the curve and muscle of his thighs and calves, tapering down into his skates making them look like it was one piece… but his waistcoat was another story.

Blood red, open at the front to reveal a crisp white shirt that seemed sinfully tight, but still tastefully form-fitting, and held together by thin gold chains. The embroidery seemed to shimmer under the spotlights, drawing the eye to the intricate patterns. The coat tails hung down, brushing the backs of his thighs, swaying gently with his movements. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his forearms; there was always something sexy about that look; he hadn’t missed the hungry stares of the audience. He brushed his silver bangs away from his face, tilting his chin _just so_ … he could feel the hum of sexual tension in the air.

The music started, the slightly off-key piano cut through the air and the first throb of bass reverberated across the stadium making the seats vibrate, and Lucifer began to move.

 

 _Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_

Each move was subtle, calculated. The jut of his hips, the tilt of his chin, the lips parted _just so_ and the burning sultry look in his eyes. He made eye contact with each and every member of the audience. No matter that it was brief and fleeting, it was _enough_. Every shift in his body laden with sexual promises.

 

 _You got me looking, so crazy my baby_  
_I'm not myself lately I'm foolish, I don't do this_  
_I've been playing myself, baby I don't care_  
_Baby your love's got the best of me_  
_Your love's got the best of me_  
_Baby your love's got the best of me_  
_Baby you're making a fool of me_  
_You got me sprung and I don't care who sees_  
_Cause baby you got me, you got me, oh you got me, you got me_

He’d come to them in their dreams and move for them, move _with_ them; he’d drown them in pleasure unlike anything they’d felt before. Every movement that his body made was like a siren’s call.

 

 _I look and stare so deep in your eyes_  
_I touch on you more and more every time_  
_When you leave I'm begging you not to go_  
_Call your name two or three times in a row_  
_Such a funny thing for me to try to explain_  
_How I'm feeling and my pride is the one to blame_  
_And I still don't understand_ _  
_ Just how your love could do what no one else can

 

Instead of gasps and cheers, they breathed and moaned. He made them _ache_ with unfulfilled need.

  
  
_Got me looking so crazy right now_  
_Your love's got me looking so crazy right now_  
_Got me looking so crazy right now_  
_Your touch got me looking so crazy right now (your love)_  
_Hoping you'll save me right now_  
_Your kiss got me hoping you'll save me right now (your love)_  
_Looking so crazy in love_ _  
_ Got me looking, got me looking so crazy in love

 

As the music reached its crescendo, so did his routine, the spins tighter, the look he gave the audience one of sexual desperation; his hands reaching out to them, _begging_ them.

 

  
_Got me looking so crazy right now_  
_Your love's got me looking so crazy right now_  
_Got me looking so crazy right now_ _  
_ Your touch got me looking so crazy right now 

 _Got me hoping you'll save me right now_  
_Your kiss got me hoping you'll save me right now (your love)_  
_Looking so crazy in love_ _  
_ Got me looking, got me looking so crazy in love

 

The throb of the music slowed, his face flushed, his hair disheveled, his chest heaving… looking for all the world like he’d been freshly fucked on the ice, and that _they_ had done that to him...

  
  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_  
_Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no_

As the music faded, his movements slowed, but still carried that sultry promise, but this time, unspoken: _Can we do that again?_

 

There would have been applause if the audience weren’t sitting there in shock; not so much the shock of having witnessed a masterful performance, but more the shock of finding themselves in various states of arousal. Some openly rubbing themselves, others already peaked and just sitting there in a daze…

Lucifer slowly skated off the ice, a triumphant grin on his face. The scores wouldn’t even matter at this point; that is, if the judges could pull themselves together long enough to give him one.

At the kiss and cry, Lucifer draped his arm around Yakov, giving that weathered face a kiss on the cheek. “So how did that make you feel, _Yasha_? Three out of three, no?”

Yakov just grunted in reply, his cheeks tinged with a dusky pink. Lucifer leaned close, dropped his voice into a seductive whisper and placed his hand on Yakov’s knee. “Though i’m surprised an old man like you can still get it up…”

He chuckled as Yakov angrily slapped his hand away, his face turning redder as he subtly rearranged a bouquet of flowers over his lap.

The score wasn’t a world record, but it was enough to place him in first. It was agreed that his routine was technically perfect, and his artistry was very… suggestive… but the judges could definitely agree that Viktor Nikiforov had made quite the comeback.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

 _“So what did you think of that Vitya?”_ Lucifer chuckled as he strode into an ornate looking room, complete with velvet curtains and plush cushioned seats. “ _I like what you’ve done with the place, very classy…”_ he said with a wink.

Viktor was seated in an overstuffed armchair, one leg crossed over the other, his face a mask of tightly controlled fury. He didn’t quite understand where he was, only that it was somewhere inside his own head, trapped as he was whilst Lucifer controlled his body. “What did you do to them?”

 _“Do to whom Vitya? The people out there? I didn’t do ‘anything’ to them at all, just woke up what was already sleeping is all.”_ Lucifer made a show of looking at his nails with a bored expression. “ _Free will, that’s what it’s all about. I can’t_ force _anybody into doing something that they don’t want to do. But what I can do is plant the suggestion of something different into their heads, and let them_ decide _if they much rather do that instead.”_

Viktor folded his arms across his chest. “What about me? I’m not in here of my own “‘free will!’” You trapped me in here!”

 _“Ah, Vitya, did you not say, all those years ago, that you would do_ anything _to win?”_ Lucifer chuckled.

“I was _twelve_. I didn’t know any better! You tricked me!” Viktor had unfolded his arms and was now gripping the armrests of the seat.

_“Not. My. Problem.”_

Each word was enunciated perfectly.

Viktor growled in frustration a moment before he pushed himself out of his seat, reaching for Lucifer ready to throttle him… and passed straight through him.

 _“Really, Vitya?”_ Lucifer tutted at him. “ _Why don’t you just sit tight and enjoy the show, and when I’m done, you can have your body back to enjoy what is left of the world when I’ve finished with it. How does that sound?”_

Lucifer just smiled, his grin all teeth and promises as he faded, leaving that smile behind, much like the cheshire cat.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri could only determine that the usual dinner “meet and greet” after the competition had been… somewhat bizarre. Yakov had most certainly been pleased with himself, the old man had been indulging in way too much champagne, but Yuri supposed that given that he’d made a clean sweep of the Nationals, that a bit of excess was warranted… but that didn’t explain everybody else’s behaviour.

He’d tried avoiding Viktor for most of the evening. It seemed that every single person that went to talk to him came away with a glazed look on their face. Nothing _about_ Viktor seemed to be out of the ordinary, he still had that stupid heart-shaped grin on his face, his blue eyes sparkling with all the praise and attention… Yuri paused his thoughts for a moment… Viktor's eyes had most definitely been _glowing_ ; a trick of the fluorescent lights perhaps? But they had most definitely been rather… _intense._

As the evening progressed, he’d begun to notice a change in the air… the usual groups that formed during these dinners seemed to be a lot _smaller_ . Groups of six and seven seemed to have shrunk down to pairs and groups of three… the banquet table seemed devoid of people, but the darkened corners of the room had suddenly become very… _busy._ Yuri snorted in disgust, but could shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him. He’d mostly avoided the attention of the others in the room; his curt answers and abrasive attitude were generally enough to scare all but the most enthusiastic of supporters; instead he’d been dodging unwanted advances, overly-familiar touches - he’d resorted to hiding behind a pot-plant at one point… the same one he was hiding behind now.

Peeking through the plastic leaves, he searched the room for a familiar face. Viktor was nowhere to be seen, Yakov and Georgi weren’t at the table… Yuri rubbed his face anxiously. The tension in the room was starting to get to him, the air itself even felt thick and heavy… were those _moans_ that he heard?

His brain seemed to catch up to the situation that he’d unwittingly discovered he was in. Everyone in the banquet room was _fucking._

“Shitshitshitshitshitshit!” He scrambled out from behind his plant cover and made a beeline for the door. He couldn’t be in the room any longer now that he’d finally realised what was going on. Sure, as elite athletes, some of them had to put their more base desires on hold for the sake of competition; everyone knew that after a big event that people would be letting off a little steam.. But fucking hell, could they at least have gone back to their rooms before fucking like rabbits?

A particularly loud moan startled him as he reached for the door. A look of horror crossed his face as he witnessed the source.

Yakov had Georgi bent over, face pressed into the floor. His usual gruff features a rictus of pleasure, his cheeks stained with colour as he… as he… and Georgi was no better! At least Yuri was used to seeing those sorts of expressions on his face the man dedicated his routines to whatever girlfriend he had at the time… but Yakov was an old man! Surely his heart would give out if he continued…

Yuri flung open the door and made his escape, not willing to find out if Yakov was going to survive his experience or not.

The sounds of moans and wet contact followed him down the hallway. He could feel the tension seeping under his own skin, making him feel slightly feverish, like he had an itch that he couldn’t quite scratch. What was happening to him… to everyone? Did someone spike the drinks? Was this some… sick government plot? He really couldn’t think of any other explanation for the fact that everyone around him and degenerated into some weird rutting mess.

In his effort to dodge the random couples that had seemingly chosen to engage themselves in front of him, he’d discovered that the room he was in front of was not his own, but Viktor’s… was Viktor even _in_ his room or was he out somewhere, caught in this weird mess? Yuri snorted at the thought, it would be very unlikely that Viktor would be an _unwilling_ participant…

He knocked on the door, just in case.

“Viktor! Are you in there?” He knocked again, harder, straining to hear if there was any movement inside the room. He looked around furtively; he really wanted to avoid being caught up in whatever had taken over the people in the banquet hall.  Even this far away, the air felt like a sentient being, curling itself like a snake, that sibilant hiss caressing his skin…

Yuri gave a small cry of dismay as he could feel his skin prickling in response, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He could feel his heart start to race in apprehension. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that someone else had entered the hallway. Normally he would be feeling relieved, but everything about this situation set his nerves on edge.

“Yuuuuriiii!” His name a jumble of slurred vowels. “Why did you ruuun away from the haaaaaall?” The man staggered and lurched towards him.

Yuri bit back a growl, trying to put on a calm face. “I was tired, so I wanted to have a bit of an early night… except I seem to have misplaced my hotel key, but my roommate should be inside, so he’ll open the door soon...” his voice trailed off as the stranger was now close… too close.

The man reached out a hand, and suddenly Yuri found himself pinned to the door, the man pawing at his crotch and nuzzling his neck with sloppy kisses that reeked of champagne.

“What the fuck?! Get off me you slimy sack of shit!” Yuri struggled to push his assailant away, but didn’t get very far. The man was very drunk, and very _strong_ … strong enough to have him turned around, and shoved back against the door, his cheek pressed hard against the intricate panel work. Fear made the bile rise in his throat and he struggled harder, kicking the door, the heavy thumps echoing down the hallway.

“Viktor, I swear to god, open this fucking door!” Yuri could feel that he was close to tears; the hot sting and prickling behind his eyes. The man seemed to have begun pulling down his trousers, the cool air of the hotel swirling across the warm flesh of his hips.

Blunt fingers with sharp nail edges dug painfully into his skin, pushing up against places that they had no business being anywhere near. “Oh, is that who you’re sharing a room with? Viktor Niki-ki-korov-ov?” the man slurred thickly through Viktor’s name.

“Viiiiiiktooooooor!” His voice was a high pitched whine, pleading for the man to come and save him. Was he even in his room? Yuri began to panic; that he’d made a mistake in assuming that Viktor was there, and now he was trapped in the hallway of the hotel with some creepy sponsor who was under the influence of whatever was going on, and that he was going to… going to…

He yelped as he felt one of those fingers pierce him. “Nonononono!!! VIKTOR!!!”

The door opened.

They both of them fell to the floor in tangle of trousers and limbs, Yuri’s head turned enough to see Viktor firmly plant his foot in his assailant's face and just… push him out of the way, like it was no effort at all to send the man reeling and tumbling back into the hallway in a flurry of splutters and curses. Yuri did not miss the haughty expression that crossed Viktor’s face, like the man under that gaze was nothing but pond scum, the lowest life form imaginable. It made him shiver.

The expression on Viktor's face changed to one of concern as he looked at Yuri’s huddled form and crouched down in front of him. “ _Yurochka!_ Are you ok?” His tone was soft and gentle, those blue eyes made him feel as if the world around him had shrunk down to a single turquoise point.  

Yuri flung himself into Viktor’s chest, the tears coming thick and fast. “Viktor, you arsehole! You shithead! You _cunt_! Why couldn’t you have opened the door sooner!?” The small, blond teenager clung desperately to the front of Viktor’s shirt, all the feelings that he’d been trying to keep hidden and at bay rose to the surface in a great rush, leaving him shaking and crying.

Lucifer wrapped his arms around Yuri’s diminutive figure as he sobbed into his chest. Hoisting the teenager up into his arms, he let a possessive smile cross his features as he slowly, deliberately closed the door, his eyes smirking knowingly at the stranger in the hallway, while he cooed soothingly amidst the hiccups and sniffles.

It closed with a soft click.

Lucifer carried Yuri to the large bed in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of the mattress with Yuri straddling his lap, still clinging, his fists clenched into the fabric of his shirt and his head buried into the crook of Lucifer’s neck as he let out little whines and sobs. Lucifer rubbed slow circles over Yuri’s back, the other hand cradling the narrow hips.

“It huuuurts, Vitya, it really huuuuurts,” Yuri hiccuped. Viktor’s skin felt warm under his cheek, and a comforting scent of cloves and spices wafted around him; since when did Viktor smell like Christmas wine? It made him feel somewhat relaxed... soft, like he would feel after a particularly long hot bath.

“Hush, _Yurochka_ , _kotyonok_.” Viktor purred, “Tell me what happened from the beginning…”

Lucifer kept slowly stroking the troubled teen as he poured out his fears, tears beginning anew as he relived the events of the night. Fingers lightly dancing across the pale skin, he made soothing coos and purring rumbles as he imperceptibly began to rock them both; slowly swaying to silent music in the background.

“Did that man outside hurt you, _kotyonok?_ ”

Yuri nodded into Viktor’s warmth. His tears had subsided and the gentle rocking was soothing, lulling him into a fuzzy state. His limbs felt heavy, and he was starting to feel slightly feverish. Maybe the man in the hallway had some sort of… stuff on his fingers, like some awful drug…

“His fingers… he… my arse hurts…” Yuri’s voice was small, embarrassed that he had to bring something like that to Viktor’s attention, but he was now painfully aware of the insistent throbbing from between his legs.

“Awww, _Yurochka_ , you poor, _kotyonok_ , will you let me have a look? To see if it’s okay? I think I have some ointment that might help take the pain away.” Lucifer feathered a kiss over Yuri’s forehead.

Yuri let out a breathy sigh, nuzzling further into the skin of Viktor’s neck. Just something about the smell made him feel… nice. A hand threaded its way through the hair at the back of his head and applied gentle pressure, encouraging him to lean away until he was able to look Viktor in the eye, those impossibly blue eyes. As Viktor’s hand moved to cup his cheek, Yuri’s gazed shifted lower, resting on Viktors bottom lip. It looked plump and inviting. It glistened like a ripe cherry, one that he could almost taste. His eyelids fluttered and his lips parted slightly as he leaned forward… he just wanted a taste…

Viktor’s lips were soft, and warm, and tasted of cloves and honey; of cinnamon and spice.

“Yuu-rooch-ka,” Lucifer mouthed against Yuri’s lips. His voice was low and it rumbled through Yuri’s body, causing a soft moan to escape from the teen. With a growl Lucifer claimed Yuri’s lips, his tongue gently tasting.

Yuri’s own tongue tentatively reached out. He wanted to taste more of the spice that made his head feel fuzzy and his heart race like it was doing right now.

Lucifer pulled back, a sultry smile tugging at his lips.“Yurochka, shouldn’t we have a look to see what that bad man did?” His voice was low, soft with concern.

Yuri blinked a few times before focusing once more on Viktor’s bottom lip. He sucked on his own, subconsciously seeking out more of that taste that was Viktor’s kiss.

“Please?”

Yuri shivered slightly; the less he was breathing in Viktor, the more he felt the painful throb where the man had roughly shoved his finger. He leaned forward, wanting to keep tasting those lips and breathing in the scent of Viktor’s warm skin.

Lucifer indulged him another kiss, one that started the slow burn of heat in the pit of Yuri’s stomach as their tongues brushed against each other, and Lucifer’s hands began a slow, deliberate kneading of the flesh of Yuri’s arse.

Breaking the kiss left Yuri breathing heavily, Lucifer’s chuckle sending shivers down his spine as he nuzzled Yuri’s ear, whispering, “You ready for me to have a look, _kotyonok_?”

Lucifer leaned over, Yuri spilling from his lap and onto the soft mattress of the hotel bed.

Firm but gentle hands arranged Yuri onto his stomach, their touch felt warm, filling his body with a slow heat that made him feel relaxed and fuzzy. The fine hair at the nape of his neck prickled lightly as those warm hands slid under his body, lifting him like he weighed nothing, and placing a pillow beneath his hips. He could feel Viktor’s weight bowing the mattress around them as he moved, the seemingly random touches of his thighs brushing between his legs, his big warm hand stroking the small of his back, was all strangely comforting. He settled into the mattress, hugging a fluffy hotel pillow to his chest and face as Viktor applied gentle pressure, encouraging him to arch his back more.

Lucifer slid his thumbs into the waistband of Yuri’s trousers and shimmied them further down his hips, exposing the pale flesh and toned muscle of the teen’s arse. He smiled hungrily to himself, licking his lips. There was something to be said about athletic bodies, they were definitely _delicious_. He palmed the twin globes, gently rolling them under his hands, each slow circle pulling them further apart to expose the hidden pinkness between them.

He clicked his tongue. Yuri’s bud was a  little red and swollen, obviously irritated by the stranger’s attempt. His fingernails must have been jagged and unkempt. He ran his finger gently over it, enjoying how it twitched in response. The teen moaned softly, clutching the pillow tighter to himself, drawing it further under his chin, his back bowing beautifully as he arched, his bottom rising higher.

“Is it sore, _kotyonok_? Would you like me to make it feel better?”

Yuri nodded his head, rubbing his face against the pillow which felt cool and smooth against the flushed skin of his cheek.

Lucifer spread Yuri out further, exposing him more. He blew a soft puff of air across the twitching hole, watching as the skin shuddered and contracted, before giving the pink flesh an experimental flick with the tip of his tongue.

Yuri let out a breathy moan and pushed his arse higher into the air.

Lucifer let out a throaty chuckle as he accepted the invitation, firmly gripping Yuri by the hips as he bent his head, covering the puckered bud with a broad swipe of his tongue, enjoying the way the flexible teenager writhed and pushed up against him as he did so. Something about actually having flesh made the experience that much sweeter.

Yuri was slowly losing himself to the sensation of the hot wet tongue that licked and explored. He could feel his erection grow until the skin felt tight and uncomfortable. He reached between his legs, looking to ease some of the pressure, but Viktor just grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the small of his back and making him arch even further, his name falling from his lips in a drawn out whine.

“Viiiiktoooor...” he panted.

“Hush, _kotyonok_ , I’ll make it feel really good soon…” Lucifer tested the tight ring of flesh with a finger, grinning as it parted easily under the pressure he applied, and he watched it slowly sink in up to the second knuckle as Yuri whimpered. He worked his finger in and out as he teased with his tongue, and soon there was little resistance. He added a second finger to the mix. “Such a good little kitten you are, _Yurochka,_ soon it will feel even better…”

Yuri was letting out little breathy moans with each thrust of Viktors fingers, his body beginning to undulate. He’d push back a little each time those fingers entered him, subconsciously guiding them in further. It just felt _really_ good, like hot and cold at the same time, the heat building in the pit of his stomach was directly stoked by those fingers, tendrils tugging at his groin, making his cock feel heavy. He pushed back further at the next thrust, whimpering as the fingers inside him brushed up against something that sent a jolt of fire straight through him.

Lucifer hadn’t missed the involuntary shudder. “Is it here?” he cooed, as his fingers delved deeper, searching until he found what he was looking for and rubbed it, his finger teasing it with small strokes.

Yuri let out a high-pitched wail as his muscles contracted, shoving his arse hard against the fingers inside him, grinding as he tried to draw out the sensation. His climax made him feel light headed, and he could feel himself pulse around the fingers that had momentarily stilled. He buried his face into the pillow to hide the shame of having enjoyed such a thing.

He could feel the mattress shift underneath him as Viktor moved, heard the snap of a button being unfastened and the slow glide of a zipper being lowered. Yuri’s head shot up as he felt the heat emanating from engorged flesh, a moment before it made contact as Viktor slid his cock between the cheeks of his arse. He sucked his breath through his teeth. Did the air seem thicker? The smell of cloves and spices stronger?

_Ah, Yurochka, did you enjoy that? Did that make you feel good? Did you want to feel more?_

Even Viktor’s voice sounded different.

The hands on his arse cheeks felt like they would slowly burn through his flesh, a deep penetrating heat that slowly began to creep through his body, soaking into his limbs, making him feel weak and heavy. His head dropped back onto the pillow, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused as those hands gently rocked his hips, allowing Viktor’s cock to begin sliding between them. He heard a click of a bottle lid being opened, the contrasting coolness of viscous liquid dripping onto his feverish skin, and then the slide became smoother, more… sensual.

_Such a good kotyonok. Do you like it when I pet you like this?_

Yuri’s eyes drooped closed as he felt heat pool in his groin once more, his own cock stirring in response.

Lucifer pulled back slightly, lining the head of his cock up, pushing it gently against the ring of flesh that was pink and glistening from his earlier attention. Two fingers may not have been enough to loosen it, but perhaps that didn’t really matter… his groan of satisfaction was nearly drowned out by the cry from underneath him as the head of his cock popped through. His thumbs pulled apart the flesh of Yuri’s opening, allowing him to slide in further, until, despite the mewling and writhing from beneath him, his hips rested flush against the firm globes of flesh.

Yuri squeezed his eyes shut against the hot tears that prickled and leaked from the corners. “Th-that fucking hurt…” he whimpered as he felt his body adjusting to the thickness and heat of Viktor’s intrusion.

_Hush, Yurochka, you’ll enjoy this part even more...._

Lucifer casually drew back, watching how Yuri gripped onto his shaft, until he slid completely out, a momentary gape before the muscle closed again. Lucifer growled appreciatively, the rumble sounding deep and predatory. He pushed his cock up against the puckering bud once more, a guttural moan escaping from his lips as he slid inside, relishing the feel of the hot wet embrace for a moment, before beginning an onslaught of slow deliberate thrusts, punctuated by the occasional slap of flesh against flesh.

He’d forgotten how good it felt to fuck.

Yuri’s whimpers of pain were soon replaced by small moans. He started to meet Viktor’s thrusts, his hands gripping the bed sheets in front of him as raised his arse higher, allowing for more of Viktor’s length to fill him. Every panting breath he took fanned the flames he felt, the head of Viktor’s cock scraping deep inside him, making his muscles clench and his innards tingle.

“Vitya, ah, Vityaaaa!” Yuri cried out as his second climax caught him by surprise, his muscles spasming hard.

With a sharp thrust, Lucifer buried himself as deep as he could, feeling his own muscles contract and shudder as he filled Yuri’s tight arse with his seed.

_Taaake it, Yuroochkaa, TAKE IT!_

He made a few more thrusts, before pulling out, licking his lips at the sight of his seed dribbling from the boy’s raw hole. He scooped a bit up, and rubbed it over the abused bud.

“See, _kotyonok_ , doesn’t it feel better now?” he chuckled as he wiped the head of his cock off against Yuri’s arse.

The young Russian skater felt his legs give out, sliding along the cool sheets until he was lying flat. He could feel the wet stains of his release underneath him, but he was too wrung out to move. He could feel the bed moving as Viktor eased himself off, heard the pad of footsteps, the running of the tap in the bathroom, and the subsequent slap of a wet washcloth against his face.

“Clean yourself up. You can stay here for the night. It will probably be safer for you if you do.”

Yuri rolled over and sat up, taking the washcloth and slowly wiped himself down. Humiliation burned his cheeks. Couldn’t Viktor have been… nicer?

Lucifer cupped the boy’s chin, “Freshly fucked is a look that suits you _Yurochka,_ perhaps we should try it more often. Lust makes your eyes smoulder that gorgeous shade of green…” his voice trailed off as he thumbed Yuri’s lower lip, pushing it past his teeth and coaxing his mouth open as he bent forward to kiss him. He smiled against those lips as he felt the arms circle around his neck, the washcloth dropping to the floor forgotten.

He pushed the skater back onto the bed, raising his flexible legs so that they wrapped around his hips, and settled him so that his renewed erection brushed against downy fuzz of Yuri’s balls.

Viktors intense hungry look made Yuri’s stomach flutter.

“We can do this all night, _kotyonok_.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor wants to be happy that Yuuri is coming to visit him in Russia, but possessed and helpless, it's nothing short of a nightmare.

Lucifer looked at the flashing light on Viktor’s phone. According to the reminders, Yuuri Katsuki was arriving from Japan some time today. He thought that he probably should make an effort to go and get him, but he was just…  _ busy.  _ Planning the end of the world took a degree of effort. He only had a few weeks to get ready for the European Championships that were being held in Slovakia, and to set other parts of his plan into motion. He couldn’t do it all on his own, he was going to need assistance from some of the others. 

For this, in particular, he was going to need Asmodeus. 

Depending on which text a person followed, Asmodeus was the demon of many things; but in this instance, in this time and place, Asmodeus was the embodiment of Lust. He was supposedly responsible for twisting the sexual desires of people. But, as in all things of this nature, he was never  _ directly _ responsible. He just  _ encouraged _ the desires that were already there. 

The flashing notification light gave him all sorts of ideas. 

Lucifer smiled.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

_ Well! That was certainly a  _ satisfying _ night.  _

Lucifer had draped himself over one of the oversized chairs, for all the world looking like a very satisfied cat. 

Viktor was standing there with his arms folded, his cheeks beginning to flush with anger. 

“I can’t believe you did that! I can’t believe that you used  _ my  _ body and went off and had sex with a  _ minor! _ ”

_ Relaaaaaax, he’s sixteen, it’s the legal age of consent. If he even remembers what happened, the worst you’ll get done for is carnal knowledge… you big stud you! _

Lucifer held up a finger as a phone appeared in his hand.  _ I’d love to continue reminiscing about your sexcapades, but I need to take this call…  _

Viktor stamped his foot in frustration. There apparently was no reasoning with the Devil. He sat down heavily in the other chair in the room and waited.

_ Asmo, you don’t have to ring me, you can just come on in if that makes it easier…  _ Lucifer put his hand over the phone and looked at Viktor,  _ Just going to have a friend pop in, that’s ok isn’t it?  _ He said with a wink. 

“Wait? What?!”  Viktor hadn’t even had a chance to protest before the air in front of him shimmered and another form appeared. 

~ _ Lucifer, darling, this had better be worth it. Why couldn’t you just send a servant with a message? _

The dulcet tones made Viktor’s mouth go dry. He felt light headed as all the blood rushed to another part of his body. He gripped the arms of the chair hard as a strangled moan escaped from his lips. The pressure in the room was incredible and it seemed that every ounce of it was channelled straight into his groin. 

_ Asmo, stop it. You’ll break my vessel at this stage, and I kind of need him.  _

Lucifer slid out of the chair and approached Viktor, who could only look up at him through half lidded eyes as he began to pant, sweat beginning to bead on his face. Lucifer slid a knee between Viktor’s legs, exposing the straining bulge between.

_ Oh look at this! I would be jealous, Viktor, except I should introduce you. This is Asmodeous, the demonic embodiment of lust. I can see that they’ve had an effect on you already…  _ he looked over his shoulder at the new arrival.  _ You might need to tone it down a notch, there will be plenty of time to let loose later. _

Viktor slumped forward as he felt the pressure subside, the throbbing ache dissipating. “My head isn’t some sort of holiday home…” he said through gritted teeth. “Why can’t you just leave?”

Lucifer cupped Viktor’s chin, forcing him to look up at a face that looked very much like his own. Viktor tried to jerk his head away but the grip was vice-like.  

_ We will, just for a moment. The strain of having two entities inside you will end up breaking you, and I haven’t finished with you yet. While we’re gone, just… do your own thing for a bit. Hmmm? _

The blue eyes that looked down on him seemed to glow bright for a moment…

He blinked.

The room was dark. The bed soft underneath him. He could hear the sound of someone breathing next to him. The room smelled faintly of cloves and spices… and something else. He worked his tongue around his mouth trying to get some saliva happening so that he could swallow. It tasted faintly metallic. 

The effort it took to roll over seemed monumental. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, the light from the various appliances, and from the hallway from under the door, all helped until he could make out the shapes in the gloom. The spill of blond hair on the pillow next to him seemed to shine like a beacon. 

Viktor hung his head into his hands and wept.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri had woken up to find himself alone in Viktor’s room, or at least he could tell it was Viktor’s room, his jacket was hanging over the back of one of the chairs. His hips were aching and his muscles protesting at his movements. The sleepy fog that clouded his mind was dissipating, his memories of the night disappearing in a haze of half-remembered embarrassment that faded when he couldn’t even find the reasons for why he’d feel ashamed… waking up in Viktor’s bed couldn’t be that much of a deal for him. 

Swinging himself out of the bed, his legs felt heavy, more so than after a particularly hard skate; perhaps he’d skated harder than he’d thought. He gritted his teeth at the notion; surely he shouldn’t have had to try  _ that _ hard to place second. He cursed as he stumbled, making his way to the bathroom. The harsh light made him squint when he flicked the switch, his eyes watering as his retinas burned.

As his blurring vision cleared, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. 

His pale flesh was marked with red marks all over. Welts, scratches, and bruises.

“What. The. Fuck?!” 

He cursed. The fucking hotel bed was obviously infested with bedbugs. It didn’t matter how swanky a hotel was; there was always the chance that the shitty parasites were present. Was he having an allergic reaction to them? That would explain the marks - getting bitten and then scratching at them in his sleep. Some looked like they had been scratched a little too much

Muttering curses, he fiddled with the taps in the shower. The blast of hot water soon filled the room with steam and he climbed under the spray. As far as he was concerned, the water would never be hot enough to wash away the evidence the blood-suckers left behind. He let the hot water beat down on him for a moment before lathering up a washcloth. He winced slightly parts of him began to sting, parts that had no business being sore or painful, and he couldn’t imagine Viktor having anything to do with those parts…

His stomach growled. Loudly. He realised that he was positively  _ starving.  _

With another string of expletives, he began to scrub himself down. The sooner that he finished cleaning himself up, the faster he could go and get breakfast. The day after a competition he didn’t have to watch calories; he would be loading his plate up with as much bacon as it could carry.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri was sitting in one of the hotel room chairs, towel wrapped around himself, drumming his fingers as he tried to work out what he needed to do. He needed another change of clothes, his own smelt awful and he couldn’t bear to be anywhere near them. He seemed to be trying to fight off the irrational urge to burn them. He couldn’t just walk out into the hallway in just a towel, not that he could anyway, it seemed that his hotel room key was missing… if he’d even had it with him. 

He heard the metallic click of the hotel door unlocking and looked up to see Viktor pushing the door open with his foot as he carried a very large tray of… food. Yuri’s stomach took that moment to gurgle loudly and the teen realised just how hungry he really was. 

“Viktor!” he blurted, quickly getting out of the seat to help the man.

“Ah! Yura! You’re awake!” Viktor beamed at his rinkmate. “I thought that you might be hungry. Well, I woke up and was absolutely starving, but I didn’t want to wake you…lots of bacon, right?” 

Yuri could only nod as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, not quite knowing how best to help Viktor in this instance. He settled for kicking the clothes and towels that were on the floor out of the way, and pulling the little hotel table out so that they could both sit at it and eat. “I’m fucking starving! I can’t believe you went and got breakfast…”

Viktor just gave a small laugh, “I woke up hungry, and I thought that you probably would be too… are you feeling ok?” 

Yuri paused, a forkful of eggs halfway up to his mouth. “I’m fine, I woke up to find that I was covered in fucking bed bug bites and like I could eat half a horse.” Yuri looked at Viktor, “You look awfully concerned. They’re just bed bug bites, we all know that most of the hotels are infested with them whether they say are or not.” He shoved the fork in his mouth and chewed. “At least the food isn’t shit.”

The next moments passed without conversation as the two of them gave in to the ravenous hunger they felt, both of them ignoring the inquisitive glances of the other.

Viktor stopped short of actually licking his plate clean, Yuri on the other hand had no such compunction. Viktor had to chuckle at the sight. “Yuuraa, you’re not an animal!” he admonished teasingly. Yuri just stuck his middle finger up at him as he continued to clean his plate. With a clatter and a sigh, it appeared that the both of them were done. 

An awkward silence started to grow between them and eventually Viktor cracked, “Yuri, are you  _ sure _ you’re okay…?”

“Yes, I’m fucking okay! Like, why wouldn’t I be? They’re just fucking bed bugs!” Yuri shifted in his seat angrily, and paused as a forgotten twinge from his rear resurfaced. “Wait. What? Why are you so concerned, Viktor…” - a half remembered flash of himself face down - “Viktor… did you  _ do  _ something to me?”

Viktor just looked at his empty plate, the guilt etched all over his face. “I didn’t exactly do…”  His voice trailed off. He took a deep breath and looked pleadingly across the little table. “Yura, I haven’t exactly been… myself.” 

Yuri cut him off with a snort. “That’s for fucking sure! But what’s that got to do with how and why I ended up in  _ your  _ room…?”

“Yura! Let me finish, please!” To Yuri, it looked as if Viktor might cry, and the teen was struck by just how old and worn out the man looked. “I know I haven’t been myself lately, especially these last few weeks… and I may have said things, or –” he swallowed, “– done things…”

“Like what, Viktor?” The more Yuri thought about it, the more he realised that the throbbing pain that he’d felt earlier was coming back… “Viktor… did we...?” A look of horror crossed his face as another memory flashed into his mind, him on his back, staring up at… “Vitya!” He snarled. “How could you!? Like, were you drunk? Like, what the actual fuck!” 

Viktor just slumped tiredly in his chair as he watched the teenager work himself up into a rage. 

“You fucked me! Like, actually stuck your dick in my arse!” Another memory surfaced. “Oh my God Viktor, ALL FUCKING NIGHT?!” Yuri was appalled at the thought that he was somehow complicit in what had transpired. “Did you fucking drug me?”

“Wait? What? NO!” Viktor nearly shouted. “Yura, you have to listen, this will sound strange. Weird. Unbelievable even…”

“Pretty unbelievable that you spent the night with your dick shoved in my arse! Have you no shame?! What about your Japanese Piggy?!” 

Yuri wasn’t prepared for the resounding slap across his face that nearly knocked his head off his shoulders. He could taste blood. 

Viktor was half out of his seat, eyes flashing with anger, his face flushed as he breathed heavily. “Do NOT, Yuri Plisetsky, bring Yuuri into this. Will. You. Just. Fucking. Listen.” He slowly sat back down, glaring across the table as he did so. “I am possessed. I have been since I was twelve.”

There. He’d said it. 

Yuri could only stare back in shock, his cheek red and starting to swell. Viktor looked so serious, so… worn out, that he didn’t have a snappy retort. The longer he spent looking at Viktor, the more his memories resurfaced. The banquet, the stranger in the hallway… it would seem that Viktor had at least saved him, and if he was going to spend the night having sex with someone, he  _ would _ prefer it to be with someone he knew.

“You mean, last night was… that you were somehow responsible for… Viktor! Yakov and Georgi were  _ fucking _ !” The words came out in a rush. 

Viktor dragged a hand through his hair, pushing back the silver strands from his face. Blue eyes looking haunted.  

“Let me start from the beginning…”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Wandering along the streets at least gave Yuri a chance to think over everything Viktor had told him over their breakfast. It was a lot to take in. Nobody in their right mind would believe any of it, no sane person should believe any of it… but it explained so many things, and in hindsight had made so much sense. 

It had to be total bullshit.

He pulled his coat around him to ward off the chill he was feeling, caused by more than just the weather. He was beginning to notice that there were fewer people than what there should be on the streets;, considering that the Russian Nationals had just happened, the streets should be full of tourists and spectators. 

Yakov had been silent, so had Georgi. He couldn’t get hold of Mila either. He thumbed the screen of his phone as he walked, unsure of where to go, or what to do at this point. 

Looking up, he realised that his walk had brought him to the front of a church. He felt slightly suspicious that he would end up in front of one of the oldest in Yekaterinburg; he remembered his grandfather telling him about it, along with many of the others that were in the area, but this one,  _ Voznesenskaya _ , was apparently special.

It was very… blue.

The hardness in his heart softened a little when he thought of his grandfather. Yuri didn’t  _ feel  _ particularly religious, but he had always enjoyed the stories about the saints and angels. He felt the urge to go inside; not necessarily to pray, but his grandfather had always told him to light a candle should he ever find himself near a church. His brain was full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, perhaps sitting somewhere quiet would help him clear his head.

It was deserted inside. His soft footsteps echoed through the hall. As his eyes adjusted to dimness, he could make out the religious frescoes painted on the ceiling. Alcoves contained paintings and murals of the saints and angels, leading all the way to the altar. He could see a place where people had lit candles, the light making the shadows flicker. He made his way over, the warm light drawing him in. Was it odd that he felt a sense of peace in a place like this?

He fished around in his pocket for his wallet, putting a few coins into the box and selecting a candle. Using one of the candles already burning, he lit his own, placing it in the holder, a little bit apart from the rest. He watched it burn for a moment, eyes drawn by the dancing flame. 

Making his way to the pews, he quietly sat down. All the usual belligerence he exhibited seemed to have dissipated, leaving him pensive and thoughtful. Clasping his hands in his lap, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Flashes of his conversation with Viktor replayed in his mind, and it occurred to Yuri that he couldn’t remember Viktor ever looking so  _ old _ , far older than his twenty-nine years would have him look, than what he did at that moment when he’d told him that he’d spent more than half of his life under the influence of the Devil.

As long as he could remember, Yuri had always looked up to Viktor. At first, as a small boy, the man was practically the God of Skating, but after being accepted by Yakov, and skating with him, Viktor was more of an annoying older brother; a rival, and someone to surpass. The comparisons between the two of them had always bothered him, and surely they had bothered Viktor, who’d just admitted that his skating prowess was not his own… so did that mean that he, Yuri Plisetsky, was actually the better skater? 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Despite the “help” that Viktor had no doubt received over the years, the man worked so hard that he’d practically bled on the ice, countless hours spent in practice… maybe Viktor had never needed the help in first place, and it was just… what? Opportunity on the Devil’s part? It sounded like a Faustian contract of old. Viktor would have won eventually, still have been the best skater in the world… except that a fallen angel just made it happen  _ sooner. _ Viktor had sold his soul for something that was going to happen anyway.

Yuri took a deep breath, trying to chase the thoughts away. Once Viktor had finished telling him everything he could, Yuri could only sit there in silence, trying to process everything. 

_ “Does anyone else know?” _ he’d asked, watching Viktor shake his head in reply. 

_ “Who else could I have told?” _ he’d asked with pleading eyes.

“ _ Katsuki doesn’t know?” _

Viktor had looked defeated at the question.  _ “You don’t understand. How could I tell him? He fills my world with such… pure light, that I thought that I was finally free. Lucifer hadn’t visited me the entire time I was with him…” _

Yuri had stood abruptly at that point, cutting Viktor off. He didn’t want to hear the rest of it, about how in love Viktor was and how he, Yuri, couldn’t understand… Viktor was right, he couldn’t understand half of it, refused to believe most of it. “ _ I’m going for a walk.”  _ he’d declared,  _ “I need time to… think about all of this…” _

So here he was. What were you supposed to do when you were told that someone was possessed by the Devil? 

“I could help you with that?”

The voice from behind him and the hand on his shoulder startled him.

Yuri whirled out of the pew, his arm flailing to dislodge the hand on his person. 

“What the fuck?!” 

He seemed to be saying that phrase a lot these days.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri thumbed the screen of his phone, turning his flight mode off and switching the sim card to the prepaid one he’d bought last time he was in Russia. Buying a dual sim phone was a pretty smart idea, especially if you were an international athlete. 

He couldn’t keep the silly grin from his face as the plane taxied down the runway towards the Yekaterinburg Airport terminal. He’d understood enough of the announcements to know that he was allowed to turn his phone back on; hopefully with his extended stay, he’d pick up a bit more Russian. Despite his studies, he still didn’t feel confident with his conversational skills. A blush stained his cheeks as he remembered a previous conversation with Viktor…

_ “How did you get so good at Japanese?” _

_ “You learn to speak a language quicker in bed…” _

Maybe he’d get better at speaking Russian after all. 

He waited for the seatbelt sign to turn off before unbuckling his, and then waited a few more moments for the people around him to sort themselves out. He wasn’t in such a rush that he had to get off the plane in an instant, he wanted to have a few moments to quell the butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t seen Viktor in a few weeks, and during that time he’d felt… distant. Sure there were regular text messages, but they seemed to lack feeling. Was it just the stress of training and making a comeback? 

He’d seen the news. Viktor had won the Russian Nationals, so maybe he would be less stressed? Yuuri sighed, if anything it would probably be more. Viktor would have to win the Euro’s and then the Worlds for it to truly be a come back, and after that, who knew? Yuuri could only hope that Viktor was doing what  _ he _ wanted to do, and not what everyone else thought he should be doing… he just wanted his… coach, friend, confidant, his  _ fiance... _ to be  _ happy _ .

He shimmied out from his seat and collected his hand luggage from the locker above. He wondered idly if his luggage would be there; there was always that small nagging worry that it had gotten lost on the layover in Moscow. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and made his way off the aircraft, anticipation slowly building in the pit of his stomach. Was it nerves? Why would he be nervous?

He would finally get to see Viktor, and for his birthday no less.

The lights at the terminal were harsh and bright, the space full of people milling about, either coming off the plane, or waiting to get on the next one. People were breaking off into groups, greeting loved ones and friends, the sound of greetings and conversation surrounding him with noise. He squinted slightly as he searched the sea of faces, looking for that one familiar one that would settle his racing heart. 

He moved off away from the gate area, not wanting to be in the way of anybody as he checked his phone for messages. Maybe there was something wrong with the sim card. He rebooted his phone while continuing to scan the crowd for some sign of Viktor. Maybe he was just late, stuck in traffic or something...

The screen flashed up. No new messages. He swapped back to his normal sim. Nothing there either. 

Yuuri chewed his lip, the anxiety rising, making his insides feel as if they were twisting themselves into knots. Had he told Viktor the right time? The right day even? He didn’t think he’d make such a silly mistake, he was sure he’d sent the itinerary and boarding information to Viktor in an email when he’d booked the flights.

He took a deep breath trying to calm his racing heart. All he had to do was call Viktor, find out where he was, and go from there.  

The taxi dropped him off at the skating rink. Yuuri handed the driver the money and thanked him in Russian. Getting out, he grabbed his luggage from the back, glad that he was travelling “lightly” - one medium sized suitcase, one skate bag that was also his backpack, and his garment bag for his costumes. His skates had to go in the checked luggage, which was fine; it wasn’t like he was going to be needing them right this very second. But now that he was here with all his things, it wouldn’t be that hard to take them out and set everything the way it should be. 

He slowly made his way up the steps to the foyer, dragging his things behind him. Once inside, he checked his phone once more, just in case.

Still nothing. No missed calls. No messages.

Nothing.

Yuuri took a deep breath to try and calm his raw nerves. Viktor hadn’t come to get him from the airport, he also hadn’t answered any calls or messages from Yuuri. If Viktor wasn’t here, he’d have to call Yuri, or even Yakov, to find out just what was going on. Surely if you hadn’t seen someone for a while, missed them desperately, and wanted nothing more than to see them… you’d pick them up from the airport. 

Yuuri chewed his bottom lip. He knew things were a bit different in Russia in regards to gay couples; he could understand if that meant that he couldn’t be openly affectionate with Viktor in his home country. But it wasn’t really that different from how they were in Japan; just the reasons were different. Back at home, it was about being reserved, and not showing your emotions in public. Holding hands was fine, but even then it attracted a few stares, but nothing like the open hostility he was warned about.  

He slid his phone back into his pocket and adjusted his grip on his luggage. He walked up to the counter where a young man was sitting. 

“Excuse me? Hello, um, is Viktor Nikiforov here?”

“Nikiforov?  _ Nyet, _ he has not come yet for today, but he will be here soon,  _ da _ ?” 

The man behind the counter could at least speak English, his accent thick and heavy. Yuuri breathed a small sigh of relief. “Is it okay if I wait for him here?”

It would be easier to wait for Viktor at the skate rink than to try and find him wherever he might be. It was the day after Nationals; Viktor could even still be in bed. Yuuri had tried to reason with him when he had booked the flights, pointing out that it might be easier to allow a day of recovery before arriving, but Viktor had just looked at him with a pout and declared that he couldn’t bear to be without him any moment longer than necessary. 

“ _ Yuuuuuri,”  _ Viktor had whined.  _ “You  _ have _ to come and see me, it will be my birthday after all! We can go out and see the city; Yekaterinburg is full of beautiful things and I want to share them with you!”  _

“You are… Katsuki, da?” 

Yuuri looked up and nodded sheepishly. It made sense that someone working at the skating rink that Viktor Nikiforov was supposed to be using would know who  _ he  _ was. He fingered the gold band on his hand absentmindedly. 

“You sit in staff room and wait, not out at rink with screaming girls. Viktor is booked for afternoon, so we wait.”

Yuuri could only nod as the man beckoned him to come behind the counter, checking the screen of his phone one more time to be sure. Still no new messages. He followed the man into the staffroom, sparsely furnished with a rickety table and a few chairs. The man smiled at him and gestured for him to sit down. “Make self comfortable. I come and get when Viktor arrives.” 

The Japanese man smiled his thanks and bowed. He’d send Viktor a message to let him know that he was at the rink. Hopefully that would make him come sooner. 

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Viktor watched Yuri leave his room, the door closing with a loud thud and click of the electronic lock. He suddenly felt tired, so very bone-weary, but at the same time, much lighter for having shared his secret. He hadn’t realised how heavy it had weighed upon his soul -  _ or what’s left of it, _ he thought bitterly. He couldn’t help but wonder if there would be any of him left by the time he was finally free. Finally back in control of himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something else.

He could feel tears threatening once more and he chided himself lightly. He’d already cried uncontrollably upon waking. Once he’d pulled himself together, he put clothes on without waking the sleeping teenager and made his way down to the hotel restaurant, unable to ignore the hunger pains that made him feel like his stomach was trying to eat itself. He couldn’t actually remember ever being as hungry as what he was in that moment; faint and dizzy, feeling like he’d skated for sixteen hours a day, for a whole week. 

It had occurred to him as he loaded up his plate with all manner of food that Yuri would possibly be as hungry as he was. A wistful smile crossed his lips at memories of previous competitions where the two of them would eat like starving men, loading up on all the things that they weren’t allowed to eat in the lead up. For Yuri, this was bacon, for Viktor this was danish pastries, one already stuffed in his mouth as he moved through the breakfast tables, piling more food onto the plates.

Five pastries later, he felt he had enough energy to carry the heavy tray back up to the room.

He was a little surprised to see that Yuri was actually awake. Had he been gone for that long? Pushing open the door with his foot, he carried the tray into the room. Once seated, he couldn’t help but notice the red marks that dotted Yuri’s pale skin, part of him felt overwhelming guilt that he was responsible; another very small and hidden part of him relished the sight, his mouth watering slightly… Viktor mentally shook himself, rationalising that the only reason why he would feel like that was because of the plate of food in front of him. 

The two of them had eaten in relative silence, Viktor’s mind going through possible scenarios. He needed to tell  _ someone _ about what was happening, that he wasn’t himself, that he hadn’t been  _ himself… _

It had gone rather well, all things considered. Yuri had only screamed half as much as what Viktor thought that he would. As far fetched as it had sounded to him, Yuri had still believed him, muttered something about going to ask for help. But how? From whom?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something important. 

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Viktor couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten something as important as Yuuri’s arrival. Somewhere during the course of the day, he’d lost track of the time and his phone. When he’d finally found it, he was more than troubled to find so many missed calls and text messages. With a sinking heart and trembling hands, he rang his fiance, not even bothering to open the messages to read them.

He thought his chest would burst when Yuuri answered. 

“Viktor?

He could feel a hot rush of tears threaten to overtake him. “Yuuri?  _ Solnyshka _ ?”

“Viktor, um, where are you?” Yuuri’s voice sounded small and tired, making his heart constrict in his chest. 

“I’m so sorry, my love, things have been... never mind that, where are you? Are you ok?” The words came out in a rush. 

“I’m at the skating rink, apparently you’re booked in for the afternoon. With the time difference and all, and the flight, I wasn’t sure if I’d gotten everything mixed up, confused even…”

“No, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can,  _ Solnyshka. _ ”

Viktor’s relief was palpable. Yuuri hadn’t yelled at him. Maybe he wasn’t angry, even though he had every right to be. Viktor resolved to tell Yuuri everything as soon as he possibly could. In person. This wasn’t a conversation that could be had over the phone. 

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri couldn’t keep the smile from his face, as tired as he was. The moment he’d heard Viktor’s voice on the phone, all his insecurities and anxiety had begun to fade.  _ Solnyshka _ . Just hearing Viktor say it made him feel warm, it wasn’t a name that he said very often; Viktor must have been beside himself with worry to have used it. He’d once tried to explain the difference between “aishiteru” and “daisuki”, and how the former was rarely said, even by couples that had been together for decades, and that when it  _ was _ said, it made the meaning all the more poignant. So Viktor had come up with a word, declaring that he’d only ever use it when he wanted to convey just how deep his feelings were. Yuuri had to chuckle, Viktor only ever used it when he seemed to be in trouble. 

Yuuri glanced at his phone once more, realising in his exhausted state that it was indeed displaying the correct time, something he confirmed by the clock on the wall. Viktor was  _ only _ a few hours late in getting him from the airport.

As he waited for Viktor, it seemed like time tracked that little bit slower, drawing out the minutes and making them seem longer. He hadn’t seen Viktor in weeks, what was another half hour? Every time he heard the slide of the automatic doors opening, his heart jumped in his chest, and he could feel the butterflies beginning to dance within him.

Before long, the sound of the doors opening filtered through once more, accompanied by Viktor’s worried voice speaking in Russian. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed his fiancé until he heard his voice and felt his chest tighten in response. He was already half out of his seat when the door to the staff room thumped against the wall, pushed open with the force of desperation. 

Viktor stood in the doorway, chest heaving, face flushed, his silver hair in disarray and clothes looking like he’d slept in them. “Yuuri…” he breathed, the sound like a caress over his frayed nerves. His name said like he was the most important thing in the world to this man. 

“Viktor?” Yuuri half choked, half sobbed. The two of them rushed towards each other, catching each other in a bone-crushing embrace. Yuuri buried his face into Viktor’s chest and breathed in deeply the scent of the man he loved, not minding the crush of his glasses against his face. “I-I was worried that you didn’t want me anymore…” he mumbled into Viktor’s shirt, hiding his face so that his tears wouldn’t show. 

“Ah, Yuuri,  _ Solnyshka _ . Never.” Viktor rubbed his cheek against the top of Yuuri’s head, ignoring the hair that tickled his nose. “I’m so sorry that I-I forgot –” he pulled back, cupping Yuuri’s face between his hands, thumbing away the wet streaks that his tears had left on his cheeks. “– I’ve been busy, things have been happening, I know it’s no excuse…” He took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling to stave off his own tears, “ _ Solnyshka _ I have something to tell you, something really important…” 

Yuuri leaned into the hands around his face, his own heart fluttering against his ribs, Viktor looked so beautiful in this moment, his turquoise eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His own hands reached up, fingers reverently meandering through the silken strands of silver, before impatiently pulling Viktor down into a kiss, cutting him off. 

What should have been an awkward mashing of faces, was in fact the sweetest thing that either of them had experienced. All the things that neither of them had time to say in that moment were conveyed through the gentle reacquaintance of their lips. Yuuri could feel his knees start to go weak, his emotions puddling and spreading warmth through his body. Viktor’s skin felt cool under his heated fingertips.

For a dizzying moment he felt the world drop away, a shift in perception. The kiss deepened and a different kind of warmth oozed through him, his sharp breath filled his nostrils with the smell of cloves and spices. The skin underneath his fingers very nearly made him pull away with how hot it burned. Viktor released his hold on his face, his arms dropping down to encircle his waist, pulling him against his body to hold him steady before very slowly pulling his lips away. Yuuri looked up, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision, feeling a little breathless. “What did you want to tell me?”

Viktor looked down, his eyes gleaming with intense emotion, almost glowing. A smile spread across his lips, his tongue snaking out to slide across them. “Nothing, _ Detochka. _ ”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

_ “Darling, I’m back. Did you miss me?” _

Viktor blinked to find himself embracing… himself. 

He roughly shoved Lucifer away. “What? Wait? Yuuri?” 

_ “Relax, he’s still in your arms, still deliriously happy to see you, and will most definitely enjoy what I have in store for him…” _

Viktor felt his stomach twisting in knots. “You can’t  _ hurt _ him… he doesn’t need to be involved in any of this.”

The smile that Lucifer showed on  _ his _ face was truly terrifying.

_ “He got involved, when you decided that he could save you.”  _

The words wrapped themselves around his soul and inexorably pulled it apart.

_ “Sit tight, precious, the fun is just beginning.”  _

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri’s head was still swimming with how happy he felt. They were out on the ice together, hand in hand, Viktor refusing to let go for even a moment, pulling him close at random moments to pepper his face with hot kisses.

“Viktor,” he quietly admonished. “There are people watching…” Specifically, the hordes of screaming girls the rink attendant had warned him about earlier. 

“Let them watch,  _ Detochka _ , I just won the Russian Nationals, nobody will dare to make anything of it.” Lucifer pulled back with a wink, letting go of Yuuri long enough to skate away, pick up some speed, and then jump.

Yuuri blinked in surprise.

“Wha- Viktor! Was that-? Did you just?” He couldn’t keep the shock out his voice. Viktor had just landed a quad axel in front of him. He skated over to his fiance, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed, but they seemed oddly oblivious to what had just occurred. “Does Yakov know you can do that?” Yuuri trembled at the thought. If Viktor could cleanly land a quad axel in competition…

“Are you going to do that at Euro’s?” The competitive part of Yuuri realised that if they were both in World’s together, nobody would have any hope of winning gold, including himself, if Viktor performed such a jump in his routine. 

He watched Viktor laugh, the amusement dancing in his eyes, eyes so blue that they seemed luminous under the artificial lights of the rink. “Ah,  _ Detochka, _ do you think I can’t win without it?” 

Yuuri couldn’t help but be caught up in the teasing mood, skating towards Viktor to grab him around the waist and spin them both around together. “I will bet you that, at the  Worlds, I will beat you in the Short Program so that you will  _ have _ to land that jump in your free skate just to beat  _ me!”  _

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri couldn’t keep the hostility from his face, nor the suspicion from his voice. “Who the  _ fuck _ are you?!”

In front of him was another teenager. His blond hair was in a ponytail that seemed to flutter with each movement the young man made, and wearing clothes that Yuri had only  _ dreamed _ of wearing when he was feeling his most rebellious, topped off with a leather jacket and the darkest aviators he’d ever seen. He couldn’t see the piercing gaze behind them, but he could certainly feel it.

The teen shrugged in a non-committal way. “Who I am is… not important, but I think I can help you with your… ‘possession problem.’” A small smile played over his lips, like he was laughing at some inside joke as he made air quotes.

_ Jesus fucking Christ on a stick.  _ Yuri had to roll his eyes. His day was beginning to border on the ridiculous. 

“Don’t swear like that.” The young man’s gaze, even though he couldn’t see it behind those black aviators, felt like it was going to burn a hole in the middle of Yuri’s forehead.

Yuri narrowed his eyes at the unwanted criticism. “Like what? I don’t recall actually  _ saying _ anything arsehole.” Just who did this guy think he was? 

The teen lifted his face, a haughty expression in the set of his nose and mouth. “I’m Uriel.” Said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“What the fuck? I didn’t  _ ask _ you for your name!” Yuri could feel the fine hairs at the nape of his neck beginning to prickle. This situation felt like it was spiraling out of his control. He began to edge away, looking to put some distance between the two of them.

“Wait, don’t run away.” 

A hand reached for him, causing him to flail his arm more violently than he intended. The tips of his fingers caught the edge of the sunglasses and dislodged them.  _ Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside a dark church? _

That was his last thought before the world went up in a brilliant flash of light.

He slowly came to. Blinking against the green-hued after images of the world that had seared themselves into the back of his eyes. 

_ Are you okay? _

The voice sounded like it came from inside his own head. No he was NOT ‘okay’ - his head hurt, presumably from when he hit the floor of the church, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Had he bitten himself? He winced as he worked his jaw around, feeling around with his tongue to make sure he wasn’t missing any teeth.  

He looked around the church, still quiet and dark except for the soft light of candles and muted sunlight through stained glass. Where did that guy go? If he’d just left Yuri passed out on the floor... 

_ I’m still here, and I’m not ‘that guy.’ I told you before, I’m Uriel. _

A faded memory floated to the surface of his mind: sitting with his grandfather listening to stories about the angels in heaven. Chubby fingers skimming over the worn pages, hovering over the illustrations of flowing white gowns, golden hair and fiery swords…

_ Yup, I’m one of those.  _

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri couldn’t seem to contain himself. All the little moments throughout the day had led up to this one. The one where he and had Viktor were kissing each other hungrily outside his hotel room, not even managing to make it inside. Viktor fumbling with the key while they licked, bit and tugged at each other’s lips. Heat seemed to roll off the both of them, a slow burn that had started small at the beginning but now threatened to sweep him away and leave nothing behind.

“Viiiktor.” He breathed against those insistent lips, his fingers fighting with the front of Viktor’s pants, sliding under the waistband to fan out against the warm skin he found there. 

He heard the electronic click of the lock, Viktor struggling with the door before it opened with a small whoosh of cold air, the two of them stumbled into the room, now fighting with clothes that seemed far too restrictive, still not managing to break the hold their lips had over each other. The door closed with a soft thud.

Yuuri found himself bodily lifted and slammed into the back of the door, the force driving what little air he had in his lungs out with a small huff, his legs wrapping tightly around Viktors waist. Viktor’s animalistic growl as he did it,  _ did things _ to him, reached into his body and grabbed him by the parts that only Viktor knew about. He rolled his hips against Viktor’s own, feeling his hardness rubbing against his own, a breathy needy whine escaping from his lips. “Viiiiiktoooor...”  

Viktor’s lips claimed his own in another bruising kiss, Yuuri thought that he could taste blood if it wasn’t for the warm cloying scent of mulled wine in the air around them. Viktor wedged him up against the door with his hips alone, tugging insistently at the fabric of his shirt, pausing in his onslaught long enough to tug the piece of clothing off, before continuing. As he was pressed hard up against the door, Yuuri couldn’t remember Viktor being  _ this _ strong. He could feel himself beginning to melt, his legs starting to shake with the effort of hanging on. 

Strong hands cupped him under his bottom, kneading the firm flesh, hot lips coaxing him to moan and squirm, his fingers threading through the silky strands of silver hair, slightly damp with sweat as he clung to Viktor for support.

“ _ Lyubov moya, _ you don’t know how I’ve  _ ached _ for you.” 

The words were a purr. A rumble that made him shiver with anticipation and need. 

He felt himself being carried through the room, before being unceremoniously tossed onto the bed, his pants being pulled off, watching as Viktor took seconds to rid himself of his own clothes, climbing onto the bed after him, his body all sinewy grace like a panther stalking its prey. It made his mouth go dry and his hands tremble. He watched as Viktor stalked towards him, his look of blatant hunger threatened to undo him right there and then. Watched as Viktor crawled upwards and began crowding his body, arms and legs trapping him on the bed in the most delicious cage he could think of. 

Viktor’s hand reached up to cup his face, the thumb sliding over his jawline, the fingers curling over the back of his head under his ear, pulling him forward as Viktor’s head bent down to kiss him again, and again, until his head was foggy and his limbs weak. Viktor removed his glasses, nuzzling into the sensitive flesh of his neck, teeth nipping lightly, making Yuuri whimper and shiver again, his nerve endings felt hypersensitive, each touch like a slow sizzling heat that he didn’t realise was burning until the damage was already done.  

Yuuri shivered and throbbed as those biting lips made their way over his skin, travelling down his body. One of his nipples was captured between sharp teeth, making him gasp and moan as Viktor teased and worried the nub, until he was squirming because the sensation was becoming too much for him to process. “Viiiktor!” he whined, body writhing against the heat that curled through him. 

Fingers dug into his skin, began their merciless journey down his sides, sliding under his hips before sinking into the flesh of his bottom. Broad shoulders wedged themselves between his legs, encouraging them to hook over as Viktor’s warm wet mouth continued, lapping and nipping its way down further, wringing out a shuddering cry from his being as searing hot lips engulfed him, his body arching and curling around Viktors shoulders as he came hard. Viktor’s lips never leaving his body as he greedily swallowed everything he had to give him. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to glitter in the muted light of the room looked up at him with an intensity that cut straight through him. 

“Viktor…” Yuuri breathed his name like a devout prayer, dark eyes made even darker by the shadows of the room and the desire that he was losing the battle to contain. 

They stayed like that for a moment. A moment in time that seemed to stretch for eternity, where nothing else mattered except for the two of them. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Yuri begins a search for information regarding the supernatual, Lucifer-as-Viktor takes Yuuri on a sight-seeing tour with far less than pure intentions.

_“Viktor! You_ ARE _a big stud! Look at you go!”_

Lucifer was back in his head, draped over one the elegant chairs, giving him a salacious wink.

Viktor flipped him a finger from across the room. “That wasn’t me, that was _you!_ That _should_ have been ME!”

Lucifer clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “ _Your little pork bowl thought it was you, I even said the words that you’d say to him, surely that should count… but having said that, I don’t think he’s ever been fucked quite like that.”_

Viktor could only fold his arms and turn his back in embarrassment, his cheeks burning hotly. It had been an interesting experience looking on as his body took his lover apart. Yuuri had never looked more beautiful than in that moment. Lucifer was right. Yuuri had thought that it was him, and responded accordingly; allowed himself to be swept away… and be shamelessly uninhibited. Viktor always knew that he’d had such _Eros_ inside him, but even he’d never seen his fiance look so… wanton.  

There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of footsteps as Lucifer approached him. Arms slid around his waist and a chin rested on his shoulder, gently nuzzling the side of his neck.

_“Vitya, you’ve been one of my favourites…”_

Viktor hated himself for leaning into the embrace, his head falling back to lean against the smooth warm cheek.

_“I’ve got… things to do again. So I’ll be gone for a while. Make sure you both eat… “_

Viktor moaned softly as teeth grazed his earlobe, his eyes fluttering shut.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

“Viiiiiktoooooor….”

Viktors eyes flew open. An arm was wrapped around him, its weight warm and reassuring. He rolled over in the embrace so that he was facing the owner, running his hand over the curve of Yuuri’s hip.

“Good morning, _Solnyshka._ ” He said the words reverently, not quite believing that he was back inside his own body and able to hold his love in his arms.

Yuuri gave him a sleepy smile, his eyes heavy-lidded, and snuggled into his embrace, he head sliding into the space under Viktor’s chin.

Neither of them said anything, content to lie in each other’s arms and listening to the small sounds around them.

Viktor kissed the tip of Yuuri’s upturned nose, his heart swelling, like it couldn’t contain the depth of emotions that he was feeling. He was beginning to cling to these small moments, terrified that he wouldn’t have a chance to experience them again. “Breakfast?”

Yuuri smiled up at him, snuggling deeper into his embrace. “Sounds good, I feel so hungry that I might starve to death if I tried to sleep for longer…”

Viktor kissed the top of Yuuri’s forehead. “I’ll go get us some breakfast and then bring it back.

He slid out from between the sheets, smiling at Yuuri’s small sounds of protest. By the time it took him to source some clothes and make himself look slightly presentable, his love had already fallen back asleep. With a fond look back at the sleeping figure, he closed the door softly behind him and made his way down to the restaurant.

This breakfast was much like the one from the previous day, though he seemed slightly less famished. Only managing three pastries before deciding that he’d procured enough food for the two of them. He hadn’t seen Yuri since their talk, and he hoped that the teenager was okay, maybe the three of them could spend some time together…

_So you can tell your little Japanese flower all about your tragic backstory?_

Viktor nearly dropped the tray that he was carrying.

_Alas the fiery little kotyonok has run into problems of his own. I’m not the only one who can make someone’s life difficult…_

The cryptic reply filled Viktor with a sense of foreboding.

_Never mind about any of that. I’m back now, so I’ll be taking over from here._

Viktor could only scream out silently as he felt his sense of self sucked back into the void.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

“Yuuri! I have the perfect thing for us to do today!”

Yuuri could only smile at Viktor’s childish enthusiasm. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do, Viktor. After all, you’re supposed to be resting before we go back to St. Petersburg.” He was grateful that they had a small window of time to spend together as a couple before having to concentrate on the more serious things such as preparing for their respective competitions. Viktor had the Euro’s in late January, literally a month from where they were now. He hoped that spending New Years in Yekaterinburg wouldn’t set him back, though judging by what he heard about the Nationals, Viktor had made an impact.

Viktor had come up behind him, leaning his forearms on Yuuri’s shoulders, and his chin on the top of Yuuri’s head so that he could show him what was on his phone.

“This,” he said, tapping on the screen, his voice soft and low. “This is a walking tour. We load the app on the phone, and listen to the voiceover while we walk along the path. It’s just like an audio guide at the museum, except it’s outside and using the GPS on the phone.”

Yuuri’s smile melted into one of tenderness as he felt Viktor kiss the top of his head before he continued with his explanation. “Yekaterinburg has some very famous churches in terms of history and architecture, much like Hasetsu has in terms of castles, so I thought that we could take a walk through the city and have a look.”

He leaned back into Viktor’s hold and tilted his head back, looking up into Viktor’s eyes, feeling momentarily lost in their depths. “Sounds wonderful,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly to rub his cheek on Viktor’s chin. His eyelids fluttered closed as he felt Viktor’s lips seek out his own in a tender kiss that made tendrils of heat coil around him, leaving him breathless and wanting more. He gave a small whine when Viktor moved away, pouting slightly at his lover’s chuckle of amusement.

“ _Detochka,_ there is plenty of time for canoodling later. I want us to go out and do something, after all, we can’t just stay indoors and _fuck_ all day.”

The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched upwards, the opposite eyebrow arching as he gave Yuuri a smouldering look.

The Russian word was unfamiliar, but Yuuri could guess its context. It was still jarring to hear Viktor swear though. Something about Viktor was a little different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was just familiarity, him being in Russia instead of Japan; he couldn’t explain why hearing Viktor swear made his stomach clench with anticipation either… but it did.

“Maybe we should be apart more often if this is the kind of treatment that I get.” Yuuri stuck his tongue out and attempted his own smouldering look. It wasn’t that hard to keep the neediness from darkening his eyes and he stretched upwards, reaching for Viktor once more.

Viktor placed a finger against Yuuri’s lips. “This first, then _that_ after. I _promise_ that I will make it worth your while if you can wait.”

Yuuri liked the prescience that Viktor’s tone held; the look in his eyes and the way his mouth curled around the words. It made his stomach tangle itself in knots and his mouth go dry. He licked his lips in anticipation, pink tongue caressing Viktor’s finger, and nodded.

“Promise?”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

It was at least a pleasant day, even if it was the middle of winter. The two of them walked down the street, sharing headphones and listening to the tourist information that was available along the way. Yuuri kept stealing glances at Viktor, blushing each time he was caught. He still hadn’t worked out what exactly was different about him. The sex last night had been raw, intense, animalistic even. He blushed further as his body shuddered and tingled in remembrance. He didn’t think that he’d ever been so… uninhibited before. Viktor had just…

“Oh, Viktor. Did you change your aftershave?” Yuuri looked up at his fiance, his cheeks pink from a mixture of the cold and embarrassment. “It doesn’t smell bad or anything, just different. It still makes you smell really good…” his voice trailed off under Viktor's scrutiny. He pulled his scarf up higher around his neck, suddenly feeling self conscious. “Really good…” he mumbled into the thick wool. Viktor now smelled like warm _O-toso_ or _tososan_ , sake that they drank during the New Year period to ward off evil spirits. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, almost like he was surrounded by a giant version of his scarf.

Viktor pulled him close with a chuckle, placing a kiss on the top of his forehead as they continued walking. Just to be different, they’d started the tour ‘backwards’, Viktor wanting to save “the best for last.” That, and the last church was actually the one closest to their hotel.

 _“The Alexander Nevsky Cathedral,”_ the recording stated _, “was founded in honor of Emperor Alexander the First and in the name of the emperor's guardian angel St. Alexander Nevsky, the Prince of Novgorod, great strategist and divine protector of Russian warriors..._ ”

Viktor would pause the recording, adding little tidbits of information as he pointed out various things as they walked up the gravelled pathway and into the ornate building. Yuuri could only stare in awe at the opulence; the gilded walls and frescoes glittered in the sunlight that streamed through the high windows.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathed, his voice hushed by the sombre feeling in the air as he slowly turned in a circle to take everything in. He looked at Viktor for a moment, trying to find the words to describe how he felt.

Viktor just smiled and stepped in close, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Keep looking, _Detochka_ , there is something I need to check on…” and with a kiss on his cheek, he left Yuuri standing in the middle of the chamber, his dark eyes sparkling with wonder.

Lucifer headed past the main chamber where tourists were milling about, taken in by the grandiose architecture, and found a small antechamber away from prying eyes and people. He assumed it was the confessional, as most churches throughout history were the same. He just needed somewhere private for a moment.

He took the ring off Viktor’s finger, holding the gold band close to his face so that he could see it in detail. There hadn’t been a chance to prepare anything else, but it seemed serendipitous that he could use it. Lucifer liked those sorts of coincidences. He kissed the ring reverently, whispering words in an ancient tongue that made the air around him shimmer like heat rising from the desert sands. The ring glowed brightly for a moment, before fading into normalcy. The only difference now was that it was warm to the touch, like it contained a life of its own.

Holding the ring in the palm of his hand, he strode out of the antechamber, heading towards the altar of the church. He placed the ring in the centre of the stone tabernacle and stepped back, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised its position. He took a deep breath and uttered a word. The timbre of his voice deep, resonating.

_Voro._

The air seemed to waver. If he stared long enough, he could almost see the flames of hell licking at the altar. It had a nostalgic feel to it. The ring seemed to brighten, like it had been cast into fire, glowing white for a few moments before the light winked out, and the ring was just a ring once more.

Lucifer's hand hovered above it for a moment, before gently picking it up. It was warmer, somewhat heavier, but still just a ring. His smile was one of triumph. It had worked the way he had planned, which meant that the other parts of his plan would also fall into place accordingly. He slipped the ring back onto his finger and walked back out to where Yuuri was waiting for him.

Despite his control over Viktor and his body, some things still bled through their connection. Viktor’s feelings for Yuuri often spilled over, but Lucifer didn’t mind so much. It was nice just to be able to _feel_ again, and Viktor’s devotion reminded him of someone else's…

“Yuuri,” he called out softly, feeling Viktor’s feelings well up as the light reflecting off the gilding seemed to make Yuuri glow from within. _Like an angel_ … He blinked at the memory of someone else; in a different time and place. Yuuri smiled up at him as he approached, his dark eyes taking on the golden hue of their surroundings, making them look like rich honey. His arms slid around Yuuri’s waist, enjoying the sensation of how well the man’s body fit against his own, his head bending to capture the pink lips that had parted in surprise.

He growled low in his throat as he felt the body in his arms start to tremble and go limp as his lips slowly and deliberately took over Yuuri’s own, the feeling of hands clutching at the lapels of his coat just increased the feelings of possession.. Was it his own, or was it Viktor’s? He pulled back for a moment, relishing the sight of flushed cheeks, the concupiscent look on Yuuri’s face, and the slight hardening of flesh against him.

“Come, _Lyubov moya_ , there are five more churches to get through…”

He shivered in anticipation of what was to come.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Viktor’s tone was accusatory, his fear and suspicions making it harsh and a little shrill.

_Whatever do you mean Vitya? I’m taking Pork Bowl out on a date, showing him the sights, AND getting some of my own stuff done at the same time. Two birds, one stone as the kiddies say._

Lucifer somehow managed an innocent look.

Viktor couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice. “It’s _your ‘_ stuff’ that I’m worried about! I’ve asked you, TOLD you, not to involve Yuuri in this… this… whatever _mess_ this is!” His hands were clenched by his sides as he struggled to control himself. What good would it do to even try and hit the Devil?

Lucifer smirked. _This ‘mess,’ as you call it, has happened a thousand times over, and will happen a thousand times more. This time I just happened to get a little more creative about it._

Viktor looked away, unable to face the fact that his own face could look so cruel.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri was only half listening to the drone of the recording. His mind seemed a fuzzy mess from the warmth of Viktor’s kisses and the smell of cinnamon and spice that seemed to be floating around them. Viktor’s new aftershave was definitely _something_.

The sightseeing was also definitely something… in each of the churches so far, Viktor had left Yuuri to gape at the beauty of each of the unique interior on his own, and each time Viktor had returned, giving Yuuri increasingly heated kisses that made his mind go even fuzzier, until all he could think about was getting back to the hotel to get Viktor to make good on his earlier ‘promise.’

“Two more churches _Detochka_ -” Viktor had breathed in his ear as his hands snaked under his jacket to cup his arse, strong hands kneading the firm flesh, pulling him flush against Viktor’s erection that was obviously straining against his pants. “- and then we can take care of _this_ …”

The words were a low throaty growl that rumbled through Yuuri’s body and headed straight for his own painful erection. “Viiiiiktor,” he whined into the thick wool coat, hiding his face that was slowly turning pink from shame and want. “I don’t think I can wait that long. Can’t we just… get a taxi or something?” Yuuri tugged at Viktors belt, pulling him in closer.

Viktor just chuckled, biting the sensitive flesh of his earlobe. “Patience, _Detochka_ , and I promise you that I will fuck you into oblivion.”

Yuuri tried to suppress the shiver of need that made his hands shake like those of an addict. He pulled away from Viktor, turning in his embrace so that he could feel the hot press of Viktor against his back as he fiddled with his phone.

Viktor leaned over his shoulder, surreptitiously grinding into Yuuri’s arse as he tapped the screen. “Maybe one church left, the last one is overrated, but this one…” His low tones made Yuuri’s stomach twist itself into knots. “...this one is _special_.”  

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Lucifer paused for a moment as he crossed the threshold of the church. As with most churches, the altar sat under the kaleidoscope of patterns and colours that the stained glass windows threw over the dimness within. That altar called out to him. He could feel the energy that filled the space within the walls throb; an ancient heartbeat of power, and it made him _smile_ as he felt it shift to his presence, slowly coalescing around him. The ring on his finger was warm and heavy.

There was nobody around, not even a priest. The nave was deserted. Most of the churches they’d visited along the way had been quiet, the number of tourists thinning as the afternoon sun waned. The problem with winter is that it got dark earlier, and people wanted to go home where it was warm.

He pulled Yuuri closer, leaning down to nuzzle the spot just under his ear, knowing that it made him let out the most delightful sounds. The Japanese man had been reduced to a pliant mess, allowing him to be more bold with his advances as their sojourn went on. He had a plan… and Yuuri in his current state fit very nicely into it.

The Church of All Saints was relatively new as far as churches in the area went. It also went by another name: The Church of Blood. Built over the land where another building had once stood, the place where the Russian Royal Family had been executed, the altar sitting directly above where the dark deed had occurred. As far as Lucifer was concerned, no amount of consecration could erase that sort of past.

He slowly approached the altar, tugging Yuuri along with him, coaxing him with heated kisses until the two of them stood before it, bathed in the muted light of the afternoon sun. Cupping Yuuri’s face in his hands, Lucifer couldn’t help but marvel at how deep and soulful his half-lidded eyes were, how red and wet his lips were, how _sinful_ he looked with his cheeks stained with pink… he bent down to capture the mouth that had fallen slightly open as arms snaked around his neck and pulled him even closer.

“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed. “We’re in a church…” The words were swallowed by another heated kiss.

“Nobody is here and God doesn’t care, believe me…”

Lucifer’s hands travelled to the front of Yuuri’s jeans, palming the bulge that he felt there, enjoying the way he moaned into his mouth and pushed his hips up to meet his hand. “So needy!” he cooed, laughing softly as Yuuri fussed, hands clutching and lips biting.

He turned the smaller man around in his arms, rubbing his own straining erection against the swell of Yuuri’s hips, nibbling his way down the expanse of skin that was his neck, as his hands reached around, deliberately undoing the button of his jeans. He nipped at an earlobe as he fingered the zip down, thumbs reaching into the waistband, and with a sharp tug, had both jeans and underpants down below the plump curve of where his thighs met his arse.

Kneeling behind him, Lucifer couldn’t help but sink his teeth into the firm flesh that was presented to him, relishing the yelp it elicited, before spreading apart Yuuri’s cheeks to expose the reddened bud between, still abused from the night before.

“Viiiiiktor,” Yuuri whined as Lucifer thrust his tongue into the well-used hole, working it past the ring of muscle. He could feel Yuuri’s legs trembling with the effort of keeping himself upright as he lapped at the skin, and plunged his tongue as deep as he could, Yuuri grinding himself down onto Lucifer’s face as he mewled and begged. With a final swipe, Lucifer straightened, bringing himself hard up against the smaller man’s back, crowding him against the solid altar.

“Put your hands on it, _Detochka_ ,” he growled into Yuuri’s ear. “You’ll need to steady yourself for this…”

He pressed a finger into the tight ring of muscle, made loose and wet from his tongue, moaning in time with Yuuri as he clenched around it. He worked it in and out a few times before the muscle gave enough for him to add a second finger. Yuuri’s hole was slick and delicious, and thanks to the previous night, didn’t take long for him to become used to the intrusion once more.

“You want this badly don’t you, _Detochka_?” Lucifer could feel Yuuri tighten and bear down on his fingers in response.

“Viiiktor!” another high-pitched needy whine.

With another deep growl, Lucifer tugged Yuuri’s jeans down a little further, and freed his own cock with the hand that wasn’t three fingers deep, fingers that pressed and rubbed against the bundle of nerves that made Yuuri buck and shudder, and grind his hips back.  

He spat into his free hand, using the saliva to moisten the head of his cock, mixing it with the precum that was already making the reddened tip glisten. Removing his fingers from Yuuri’s heat made him keen with loss.

“Hush, _Detochka_ , this is what you want, isn’t it?” He growled as he lined his cock up with where his fingers had been, the blunt head pressing against the stretched pucker that still gave him resistance.

Lucifer crowded Yuuri with his body, steadying himself against the taut hips. His cock nudging against Yuuri’s entrance, nearly in, but not quite. He tightened his grip and gave a savage thrust as he bit down on Yuuri’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of the way Yuuri’s arse gripped around him and probably nearly tore.

Yuuri didn’t know which to process first. The burning pain of Viktor’s dick forcing its way inside him, or the sharp pain of teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder. Both only registered for a moment before the cloying smell of cloves and spices overtook his senses once more. His skin felt hot and like it was too tight for his body, nerves prickling all over him. Viktor’s sharp thrusts seemed to hit his prostate directly, forcing out high girlish moans each time. Part of him was horrified at how he was shamelessly thrusting his hips back and grinding down on Viktor’s cock, his cries echoing off the stone walls. The other part, the part that seemed to be in control, didn’t care, the thrill of doing something so debauched making his knees weak and his mouth dry. His own cock rubbed up against the fabric of the altar cloth, his fluids spilling out over it, making it damp and sticky until it clung to his skin.

Viktor’s pace was punishing, ripping his climax from him. A stuttering cry fell from his lips as he watched himself come over the altar, strings of white spattering along it. Still Viktor did not stop, his thrusts relentless and brutal.

Yuuri felt a tingling of fear, in the back of his mind; he could tell that he was being overstimulated, his skin was on fire, the prickling like thousands of ants were crawling across his skin.  “Viktor!” He panted, tears forming, spilling from the corner of his eyes.

A strong hand ran itself up from between his shoulder blades, up the back of his neck before splaying out over the back of his head, fingers curling through his hair.

Lucifer shoved Yuuri’s face into the altar as he emptied himself deep inside the twitching, shivering mess of Yuuri’s arse. The press of soft cloth against Yuuri’s cheek was the last thing he felt when the burn of Viktor’s seed inside him faded, the church going dim around him and fading from his sight.

The ring on Lucifer’s hand shone brightly through the tangle of dark hair.

~ _You summoned me my Lord?_ A figure shimmered through the hazy sunlight _._

Lucifer withdrew himself from Yuuri, using the altar antependium to clean the both of them up as he supported Yuuri’s weight with his hips to prevent him from sliding to the floor.

_“Indeed I did. As you can see, I’ve prepared the most delightful vessel for you to use. I trust that you’ll find him more than adequate to serve your needs.”_

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Uriel wasn’t happy about this current arrangement, and neither was Yuri. The teenager had done nothing but swear and complain the entire time it took for him to get back to the hotel room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle all the others down the hallway.

“Ugh! Now I’m just like that shitty old man! I didn’t sign up for this, I totally did not _consent_ to this!” Yuri flung himself onto the bed, punching the pillow a few times for good measure.

“I’m sorry? It was this or just let you go up in a puff of smoke.” The sharpness of Uriel’s tone could have cut glass.

“CAN YOU NOT DO THAT?!” Yuri yelled into the abused pillow.

Uriel bit his lip, well, he bit Yuri’s lip. Because he _was_ Yuri… at the same time, using his mouth to say the words that he wanted to say. It made Yuri feel like he was literally talking to himself.

The teenager- the non-angelic sort -gave another growl of exasperation, rolling over to stare at the ceiling while he wondered what the hell he was going to do with himself now.

“Oh that’s easy…” Uriel began.

“ENOUGH!” Yuri shouted. “Can’t you just like, talk inside my head or something? Fuck me, even Viktor didn’t talk to himself; that shit would’ve been in the press the next day! I am NOT going to be known as the schizophrenic skater who talks to himself!”

 _Is that better?_ Uriel asked, somewhat petulantly. _I just thought it would be easier if you just heard the words…_

Yuri muttered under his breath. “At least I won’t attract attention like this.” He paused for a moment to take a deep breath, trying to quell the fluttering in his stomach that had started up. Were they _his_ nerves, or someone else's? “So, what’s the plan then? I’m assuming you have one? Or do you just randomly go around possessing teenage boys? I would’ve thought the Catholic Church would be in on that sort of thing, what with their history and all...” He smirked at his own joke.

Uriel rolled his eyes, well, he gave the impression of rolling his eyes, otherwise Yuri would’ve been yelling about the angel taking over his bodily functions as well. _As I’ve been_ trying _to tell you, it was an accident. You, in your childish tantrum, knocked my sunglasses off, and rather than have you going up in a pillar of fire, I… ‘possessed’ you._

Yuri could even feel the air quotes. “Aren’t I supposed to consent to this sort of thing? Aren’t you supposed to ask me first?”

Even he could remember _that_ from the stories he’d read as a child, hell, even Lucifer had at least asked first before fucking up Viktor’s life…

There was a pause, and a mental sigh. _I took advantage of certain… loopholes. Yes, you have free will to do whatever you want, and yes, we are supposed to ask for permission before we do anything, but at the same time, you’re alive, and generally things that are alive want to stay that way. So, if given the choice between being dead or alive, one assumes that you’ll always choose to stay alive, and work out the details later…_

Yuri could see his point, reluctant though he was about the whole thing.

Would he have really died?

The angel was right. He would much rather be alive to be angry and complain about the situation, than be dead, and who knows what after that.

_I’m glad you see it that way. Now, I should only be staying long enough to get intel on the Lucifer situation and then I’ll be out of your hair. You can at least help me do that, right? Lucifer possessing someone for so long is practically unheard of, so he’s definitely up to something._

“No shit,” Yuri growled. “So how am _I_ supposed to help _you?_ Now that Viktor told me everything, and Lucifer has to know that he’s blabbed, doesn’t that put me in some sort of danger, aren’t _you_ supposed to protect me from that?”

Uriel huffed. _First you’re complaining about me being here in the first place, and now you’ve decided that I HAVE to protect you? HA! I’ve done enough for your sorry little arse, you should be grateful that you’re not a pile of ash on that stone floor!_

Yuri had never wanted to rage so badly in his life, not even when JJ got all up in his face. Part of him also realised how it would look, and it wasn’t good for someone who was fifteen and should obviously know better. In all the years that he’d known him, he’d _never_ seen Viktor rage or tantrum like he was doing now… and he’d definitely had reasons to.

“Fine,” he huffed, blowing the air out from his cheeks. “So what do we do now?”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri stayed in his room for the rest of the afternoon, ignoring the text messages from his fellow Russians that were beginning to pile up on phone. He had a new appreciation for how Viktor must have felt all those years, not being able to talk to anyone lest they think that he was crazy or something...

Who was he even going to tell about all this?

Telling Viktor was out of the question, telling his rink mates or Yakov would be a ticket to ridicule and would achieve nothing. He thumbed through his phone, looking at his list of contacts. There were two that he paused over momentarily: Otabek and JJ. He didn’t know if Otabek was all that religious; whether his faith was just a result of being born into it, rather than choosing to follow it. JJ, however, was _devout_ about his belief.

Maybe JJ would be the better option in this instance.

He sent off a quick message: _Hey, can I ask you about some church stuff?_

JJ was nine hours behind, so it would probably take a while before getting a reply… Or so he thought,  phone giving off a little chime.

Jjleroy!15: _Good Morning Beautiful! What stuff do you want to know?_

Yuri ground his teeth. Typical JJ. Of course he’d be awake, he was probably training like mad. He was half tempted to just blow him off and deal with this disaster on his own.

Yuri_plisetsky: _Angels and stuff_

It sounded lame, even to him. He couldn’t imagine what JJ would make of this conversation.

Jjleroy!15: _You might need to be a bit more specific there, Tiger._

Ugh! Why couldn’t JJ just get a clue? It annoyed him to no end that the Canadian had insisted on calling him “Tiger” all the time.

Yuri_plisetsky: _How about demonic possession?_

He couldn’t make it any clearer than that…

Jjleroy!15: _First angels and now demons? You need to narrow it down, make up your mind. What’s this all about anyway? Why are you asking me and not google?_

Yuri hadn’t really thought about it that far. Sure he could search for information, but it wasn’t information that he _wanted_ …

Yuri_plisetsky: _Fuck you then. Forget I even asked!_

He threw his phone away from himself, rolling his eyes dramatically as it bounced off the edge of the bed and fell to the floor. With a huge huff, he rolled over onto his side, clutching a pillow to his chest for comfort.

_I’m assuming that didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?_

“PISS OFF! Can you just leave me alone for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES?!”

Yuri had no idea what he was going to do, or how long he’d have to get used to sharing his head with an angel.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

At some point he’d fallen asleep, waking to realise that he was starving. He fished around the floor at the foot of the bed where his phone had fallen, only slightly dismayed to find a number of missed calls and even more messages. Seeing a missed call from his grandfather made him realise that instead of trying to talk to someone like JJ, that he should’ve been talking to his grandfather instead. After all, that’s where he’d learned his stories… But how would his grandfather take the news that there was an angel in his head?

_Archangel._

Yuri blinked. “What?”

 _You keep referring to me as an ‘angel.’ Whilst that’s somewhat correct, I am actually an Archangel, y’know, one of the important ones._ Uriel sounded huffy.

Yuri couldn’t help the snort of laughter. His new companion seemed a little like himself.

_Anyway, whilst you were sleeping, I took the liberty of making a few preparations. I can’t keep being some disembodied voice inside your head, so I’ve created a space; let’s just say a ‘pocket’, where you and I can interact. It’s outside time, so you’re not going to be standing there like a zombie in public or anything like that, but it’s probably safer if we use it when we’re alone like this. Come, let me show you._

Yuri blinked again. When his eyes opened he was sitting on a bench that overlooked a pond. Ducks floated lazily on the surface and a small breeze gently pushed a few leaves across the path, rustling softly as they went. “What is this place?”

“I told you, it’s somewhere for us to talk.”

Yuri jumped slightly, startled to find that Uriel was sitting next to him on the bench, wearing the same clothes as he had been wearing when they’d met in the church. He eyed the jacket enviously, knowing that he’d never get to wear something as cool as that. “Shouldn’t you be wearing white robes or something?” he asked spitefully.

Uriel gave a snort. “The robes are a… nuisance. Besides, I prefer these clothes, they’re more fitting with my personality.” He gave what Yuri presumed was a wink, hidden behind those solid black aviators.

“You’re still wearing your glasses?” Yuri asked, apprehensive. He didn’t want to find out if he could go up in a puff of smoke in this place.

“Occupational hazard. I carry the Light of God wherever I go, it’s not something that I can decide to take a break from. Not that I would want to take a break from it; it’s just a huge responsibility, and I’m the only one who can do it.” Uriel just shrugged at him. “Anyway, this is your… special space I guess. It can be whatever you want it to be, I just took the nicest memory and recreated its setting.”

Yuri looked around. Now that the angel had mentioned it, the park and the lake did look a little familiar. The memory bubbled to the surface of him and his grandfather sitting on the bench, watching over the little pond as the ducks squabbled over bits of bread.

“You can’t feed ducks bread…” he said. It sounded lame to his ears, but the words just spilled forth.

Uriel just smiled and looked out over the pond.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

The flight back to St. Petersburg was going to be an absolute nightmare as far as Yuri was concerned. Viktor and Yuuri had emerged from their hotel room to meet with the rest of them in the foyer. Yakov was busy trying to round them all up to ensure that they were all together. He looked as gruff as always, asking questions in a curt manner. “Has everyone got their boarding passes? I _will_ leave you behind and you can catch the train back to home!”

It was an empty threat. Yakov would never let his star athletes travel that far by rail.

Yuri hung back from the main group, pretending to look at his phone as he discreetly observed Viktor. He seemed like himself, but then what did that exactly mean? After all, Viktor hadn’t really been ‘himself’ for over a decade, so what the hell did Yuri know about him? He had his arms around Yuuri, resting his chin on the Japanese man’s shoulder. Yuuri was content, his dark eyes owlishly looking around, a small, polite smile on his face as the others spoke to him.

The teenager narrowed his eyes. Shouldn’t the Japanese piggy be all shy and blushing? He remembered Yuuri being that way when faced with any sort of attention, first when he’d kicked the door open to the bathroom stall, and then when he’d watched Viktor shower him with attention. He clicked his tongue and went back to staring at his phone, not wanting to be obvious about watching them. His phone vibrated in his hands; JJ had sent him another message.

Jjleroy!15: _I forgot to say before. Congratulations on placing second! Shame you couldn’t get 1st, but Nikiforov is really something eh?_

“I am, aren't I?”

Yuri jumped, his heart hammering in his chest and whirled around to face Viktor.

The smell of cloves and spices hit him harder than what he’d remembered previously; he almost gagged on the stench. “What do you want old man?” He muttered, wrinkling his nose as he looked away from Viktor’s glittering gaze, wishing that his racing pulse would slow down.

“ _Yurochka, you smell positively_ divine. _Which one of my brothers are you hiding?_ ”

Yuri swallowed hard. Viktor’s voice had dropped, the low rumble moving through him as if it was reaching in to grab his soul. His stomach clenched in anticipation as memories of their night together came flooding back. It made his knees weak and his mouth dry. This wasn’t Viktor anymore, this was Lucifer.

“Fuck off. Your shitty tricks won’t work on me anymore,” he hissed, keeping his voice low so as to not be heard by the others and attract attention to them. Yuri hoped that he sounded more confident than what he felt. The smell emanating from Lucifer was making him feel light headed.

“ _Careful now, Yurochka, if it wasn’t for me, you’d never have been able to survive your little encounter with… Uriel, isn’t it? You always smelled a little sweeter…”_ Lucifer leaned back, hand on chin and a thoughtful look on Viktor’s face. “ _Almost like vanilla.”_

Yuri blushed, horrified at the thought that the Devil had correctly identified that he had an angelic passenger, apparently from smell alone. Did that mean that he was giving off some _scent_ that other people would be able to pick up on?

Lucifer chuckled provocatively. “ _The look on your adorable little face says it all,_ Yurochka _…”_ he leaned in close, his breath tickling Yuri’s ear as he whispered. “ _You can’t stop me, Uriel, none of you can. I_ will _win this time.”_

Yuri backed away from him, eyes narrowing as he watched the smile on Lucifer’s face widen. He gave Yuri a jaunty little wave and made his way back to Yuuri’s side, slipping an arm around his waist. For all the world looking like a couple, happy and in love, and everyone around them didn’t know any different.  

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

JJ looked at his phone again. Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded Yuri that he’d come second; beaten by Viktor Nikiforov. There was a nine hour time difference between Canada and Russia, well, some parts of Russia… give or take. The clock app on his phone took most of the guess work out. He checked the messaging app. Again. Yuri had definitely read the message, two little ticks next to the textbox confirmed that. Maybe he was… busy?

He shook his head. After the strange messages from the day before, . he wasn’t sure what kind of help he was supposed to be. As religious as he was, those sorts of questions would have been better directed towards a priest… he made a mental note to ask next time he was at church.

In the meantime he had Four Continents to prepare for, especially if he wanted a place at the World Championships. Although it wasn't necessarily a given, beating Yuri Plisetsky wasn't his driving force because he'd already achieved that; beating Viktor was. The disappointment of not being able to compete against him- and to beat him -was still there, but now that Viktor had returned, this was his chance to show the world that _he_ was the best ice skater out there.

But for that, he needed to train harder, perfect his routine. He couldn’t afford to let the crippling self-doubt from the Grand Prix return and hamper his efforts. The only thing that would make winning the World Championships even sweeter was if the little Russian Ice Tiger stood on the podium with him… in second place, of course.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri was glad to be back in St. Petersburg, and glad that he didn’t have to see any more of Viktor than he absolutely had to. His grandfather had arrived to picked him up from the airport, all smiles and big comforting hugs, congratulating him on his efforts. Yuri buried his face into the huge warm embrace, mumbling apologies. “Can we just go home, _Dedushka_?”

Yuri’s grandfather patted him on the back, “Of course, Yurochka. Potya has missed you terribly and will be glad to see you. She has been sleeping on your bed, pining for your return. She has adjusted to the move quite well.”

Potya. Yuri realised that he’d actually missed his cat. She was probably the only thing in this world that wouldn’t judge him or think that he was crazy.

Yuri quickly said his goodbyes to the others, side-stepping the hug that Viktor attempted to give him, but he couldn’t avoid the one that Yuuri gave him.

“Sorry that we haven’t really had the chance to catch up,” the Japanese man said with a slight blush, “but it’s really good to see you again, and I look forward to training with you.”

Yuri nodded, not sure how else he was supposed to respond, other than with an awkward pat on the back. With a final wave to everyone, he linked his arm through his grandfather’s and ushered him out of the airport.

“I’ve made you katsudon pirozkhi, Yuratchka!” His grandfather smiled at him as they got into the car.

Yuri could only smile back, his first real one since leaving to go to Yekaterinburg.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuuri Katsuki couldn’t shake the feeling that Viktor was somehow… different.

It was an irrational feeling. After all, Viktor was still Viktor. He still smiled at him with his beautiful heart-shaped smile and still made him feel warm and loved.

But he was still… different.

Yuuri shook his head. Of course Viktor would come across as being a little different. The Viktor that was with him in Japan and through his skating season was his coach. This Viktor was one that was in his home country and competing once more. Of course there would be a change in Yuuri’s perception of him. Even Yuri had been a little different.

He felt Viktor give his hand a squeeze.

They were sitting in the back of a taxi, on their way to Viktor’s apartment, Yuuri still not quite believing that he was actually going to be living with Viktor and training _with_ him. If he placed at the 4C’s, then there was the chance that his dream of competing with Viktor, skating on the same ice as him, would be realised at the World Championships… but first he had to shake the butterflies that were dancing in his stomach at the prospect of seeing Viktor’s home for the first time.

Home.

He guessed it was going to be his home too. He returned Viktor’s squeeze, not trusting himself to look at him just yet. The metal of Viktor’s ring felt warm against his hand; he thumbed his own, comparatively cool to the touch. He felt his chest constrict with feeling as Viktor pulled him close and brushed a kiss against his temple. He stiffened slightly when he heard a small sound of disapproval coming from the driver that seemed to morph into a strangled coughing sound.

“What are you thinking, _Detochka?”_ A smile played around Viktor’s lips, the blue of his eyes seemed to shine brighter than Yuuri remembered. He could fall into the intense look of those eyes and never come up for air.

Unbeknownst to him, the driver of the taxi had received a rather uncomfortable variation of that look.

“It’s nothing special. Just nervous about seeing your home, about living with you, properly, without my parents or my sister, or…” Yuuri’s voice trailed of, as he lost himself in the strength of Viktor’s gaze, like he was looking into his soul. His own gaze dropped down to Viktor’s lips, as he licked his own subconsciously.  

Viktor leaned in closer, tantalisingly close. “We’ll be able to get up to all sorts of delightfully _wicked_ things, won’t we?”

Yuuri’s mouth went as dry as his face went red. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about _that._

He was saved from further embarrassment by the taxi stopping outside Viktor's apartment.

Yuuri quickly exited the taxi, getting the bags out of the boot and setting them on the footpath while he waited for Viktor to pay the driver. Pulling his coat tighter around him to ward off the chill of the wind, he took the opportunity that the lull gave him to take in the surroundings. It appeared the apartment building was in a nice part of the city, large trees lined along the road, their branches heavy with snow that had mostly been swept away from the thoroughfares. The building that they were in front of almost looked like a hotel. Glass doors led into a foyer and a counter where someone was seated.

“Are you ready?”

Yuuri was pulled from his observations, the realisation of how close he was to something that he’d only ever dreamed about causing him to draw in a shuddering breath. He nodded mutely, picking up his bags to follow Viktor.

The doors parted silently, the warm air from inside of the building wafting out to embrace him as he stepped inside.

“Ah, Mr. Nikiforov, it’s good to see you once more. Congratulations on your win at Nationals.”

Yuuri blinked at the person who was seated behind the desk, surprised that they had spoken in English rather than Russian.

“I see that you have brought Mr. Katsuki with you. Would you like me to organise a door key for him?”

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but Viktor was already walking over to the counter, the conversations switching back to Russian, leaving him to stand awkwardly behind him as he half listened, half continued to stare at his surroundings until Viktor waved a key ring in front of his face.

“ _Detochka,_ you are now officially on my apartment registration. This is the key for the door, and this card here will open the glass doors and the elevator after hours.” Viktor just grinned at him, his blue eyes shining.

Yuuri blushed as he gingerly took the keys, afraid that they might suddenly disappear, and that this was all a very elaborate dream. One that he really hoped that he didn’t have to wake from any time soon. He followed Viktor once more, and a short ride in the elevator later, the two of them were standing in front of Viktor’s apartment door.

“Did you want to try out your key?” Viktor’s voice was low, and his breath warm against his ear.

The key slid easily into the lock, Yuuri turning it with a faint click, his hand on the door handle. The butterflies in his stomach were intensifying and he could feel his heart thumping in his ears; a roaring sensation, like being trapped under a waterfall. He thought that he might faint. There was a scrabbling sound from the other side of the door, and an irrational fear rose up within him. He mentally shook himself. There should be no reason as to why he felt the icy grip of terror; it was Makkachin on the other side of the door, not some... growling slavering beast ready to tear the flesh from his bones, all sharp claws and teeth.

_What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Viktor’s hand was over his, applying pressure so that handle turned. Yuuri wanted to scream out, but the sound never made it past his throat.

The door opened.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri slowly stepped through the front door of his newly acquired apartment. His grandfather had wasted no time in making it look homey with personal trinkets. Hearing their arrival, Potya was already padding out from one of the rooms, her tail swishing as she hurried over, rubbing her cheek against his leg, purring as loud as she could. He scooped her up into his arms, burying his face into the fur of her neck as she happily rumbled into his, headbutting his jaw with little chirps.

“See, I told you Potya missed you.” His grandfather gave him a warm smile. “She settled into the apartment very quickly. We’ve only been here a week; it was amazing how fast everything was organised, and how quickly we were able to move here. One of the removalists even drove the car as we followed them here so that I didn’t have to. It was amazing how helpful they were, Yurochka!”

He followed this grandfather into the kitchen where he was busying himself. “They did all that? Really?”

“Yura, I would not be standing here if that weren’t the case.” His grandfather wagged a finger at him in admonishment.

He left his grandfather in the kitchen and went to inspect the rest of the apartment. The bedrooms appeared to be spacious, easily fitting their existing furniture and the bathroom had a walk-in shower and a separate bath. There were two little balconies, one outside his bedroom, and another outside the living area which meant that Potya had her pick of sunshine.

“The clinic is also just down the street a few blocks away,” his grandfather called from the kitchen.

Ah yes, the clinic, the whole reason why Yuri was looking for an apartment such as this in the first place. Never mind it being close to the skating rink where he trained with Yakov and the others, he wanted to his grandfather to get the best possible care that he could for his back, now that he was winning gold medals and the sponsorship endorsements meant that he could afford it…

_“You’re really good at rationalising aren’t you?”_

Yuri blinked. Ducks squabbled over a morsel, ripples spreading out over the pond.

“I thought we’d agreed we wouldn’t do this unless I was… lying down or something.” Yuri didn’t even bother to look at the angel seated next to him.

“ _Well, if you’re going to stand there and be all introspective about things, then give credit where credit is due. I’m responsible for your ‘good fortune,’ you could at least admit that to_ yourself.”

Yuri wrapped his arms around himself, not really wanting to remember that conversation, but did anyway.

“ _You begged me to do ‘something,’ how you couldn’t bear to stay with Yakov after you saw him doing... things. That you didn’t feel safe, even with having me- which, by the way, is a bit rude; I’m still a bit peeved at that -and so you wanted somewhere_ safe _. Somewhere Lucifer couldn’t find you.”_

“Lucifer won’t find us, right? Like, I'm not going to wake up to find him standing over me or anything like that… will I?” Yuri didn’t want to admit that the thought frightened him more than he let on. He finally turned to look at the angel next to him.

Blond hair glowed like a nimbus around his head, dark glasses still hid his eyes, eyes that burned so bright that sometimes Yuri wondered if he could see them behind the opaque shades.

 _“I'm not sure I can promise that, but I can promise you that I'll protect you as best I can. But I'm not your personal bodyguard, I'm here to find out what Lucifer is up to, and then try and stop him from doing whatever it is. Then I leave and everything returns to normal… but don't worry, you'll still get to keep the apartment.”_  

Yuri swallowed. “He said something… I've been thinking… what did he mean when he said that I wouldn't have been able to survive if it wasn't for him?”

Uriel looked decidedly uncomfortable. “ _Unfortunately, he was right about that. I was actually quite surprised when it happened, but obviously it makes sense now. If it wasn't for his “interference” then you wouldn't have been quite as receptive to my presence and subsequently my possession. Things could have been quite… different.”_

Yuri snorted. “You mean that I'd be dead.”

Uriel just put an arm around his shoulders and awkwardly pulled him close. The answer didn't need to be said.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Training was… hard. Yakov was relentless. Viktor, Yuri, even Georgi and Mila made it seem so… easy.

It wasn’t that Yuuri was a stranger to hard work or commitment, but he'd never really had _two_ coaches before… and definitely not with conflicting views. Yakov would bark out instructions and moments later Viktor would be whispering suggestions, his voice low and hot in his ear. He could see Yakov's face, dark and thunderous, glaring out over the ice.

So he skated, and skated, and skated some more, until the day was done and it was all he could do to fall into bed exhausted.

Then there were dreams.

Dreams where a terrifying beast would be standing over him, fur as coarse and black as coal, eyes that glowed red, and breath as hot and sulphurous as he imagined the pits of hell to be… claws and teeth reaching for him, to tear his soul from his body, to shred the flesh from his bones. But when he woke, panting and sweating, it would be Makkachin looking up at him with her deep brown eyes as she snuggled into him.

Then there were dreams where he could feel a lazy heat suffuse his core, curling through his limbs making him feel languid and heavy. The fine hairs on the back of his neck would prickle and the smell of cloves and spices and… something else, would make his head feel wooly, and he'd awaken writhing and grinding with Viktor having to fuck him into the mattress before the feeling would leave him and he could return to sleep.

And so he skated.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With word out about Viktor's incredible quad axel, the world turns its eye to the European Championships - which makes it the perfect platform for Lucifer to proceed with his plans. Even more convenient, the perfect pawns are in attendance.

 

“Well! Your master has certainly been working you _hard_.”

The words were heavy with promises covered in a pleasant French accent. It was all he could do not to lean into the large, warm hand that cupped the cheek of his arse; to drop his head back against the shoulder behind him and bare his neck to the honeyed tones that caressed his ears. He gave his hips a little grind into that hand, gyrating them to a beat that only he could hear…

“Oh _Yuuri_ …” the words dripped, coated in warm chocolate...

“Chris… please don't touch my things without permission…”

Now _those_ words were also laden with promises, dark and heavy, something a little… _dangerous._

Yuuri blinked. Reality came crashing back and he lurched away from Chris, apologies stammering from his lips and a pleadingly mortified look in his eyes.

Chris just gave him a sultry look, winking at him. “Please _Cheri,_ don't apologise, it seems your Eros is _maturing_ .” He turned to Viktor, “Vitya, I saw your skate at the Nationals, it was really quite something… you'll have to share your inspiration with me.” He looked pointedly at Yuuri who could only blush deeper and stammer more. “Though your inspiration looks a little _lean._ Vitya, how hard have you been working the poor boy?”

Yuuri shrunk away from Chris’s critical eye. He was right though; Yuuri hadn't been this slim since he was a teenager. His clothes were hanging a little looser, but he hadn't had the time to get new ones between the training, and the… dreams. “I'm fine! I'm just, jetlagged and working really hard…” Yeah, that was it. Just a combination of being tired and working hard…

Yuuri blinked in surprise as Chris pulled his glasses off and tilted his face upwards towards the light. Concerned hazel eyes looked down at him.

“Viktor! Look at these dark circles, how could you not notice? How could you let him get this exhausted? Yuuri when was the last time you ate properly? When did you last sleep?”

Yuuri could only blink at the volley of questions. He stammered out a reply, a helpless look on his face. “It’s just the stress of moving all over again, and training. I-it looks like I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was…”

Yuuri felt himself get dragged into the warm embrace of Chris’ chest. It wasn’t the same as Viktor’s warmth, but it was comforting, like he could finally sleep without nightmares.

“You shouldn’t be here, your horrible boyfriend should have made you stay in the hotel to sleep.”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Viktor could only stare at Lucifer suspiciously. It pained him more than he could admit seeing Yuuri turning into a shell of his former self. _His_ Yuuri was bright and made everything else around him brighter. _This_ Yuuri was a poor caricature.

“What have you been doing to him?”

Lucifer arched a perfect eyebrow, an exact copy of his own. “I’ve done nothing. It seems the boy is a little _sensitive_ to the divine, and it’s affecting him, making him feel a little poorly…”

“Poorly?” Viktor snorted. “He looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in _months_! If you’re supposed to be me, why aren’t you looking after him?”

Lucifer grinned. “But I am looking after him. When he reaches for me, so sweetly, in the middle of the night, I give the darling boy _exactly_ what he wants. I’m pretty sure it’s what _you_ want too. I might be the one controlling your body for now, but it’s quite amazing how it just _responds_ to the darling creature, it makes all this just so much _fun_! Now, if you’re done, I have an international skating competition to win, and an armageddon to set in motion.”

Viktor’s mouth was already open to give some rebuttal, but he closed it in frustration.

As always, there was no reasoning with the Devil.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Whether by luck, or by infernal interference, Viktor Nikiforov was skating last in the Short Program for Euros. Some might say that this was so that he would know exactly what he needed to do to win, others also might argue that the best was saved for last, but it could also be said that nobody was prepared for what was to come. Yuri Plisetsky was skating immediately before him, and Chris Giacometti before that. No doubt calculated by the organisers for maximum results, it seemed they were already predicting the way they would place. Viktor first, Yuri second, and Chris third.

Lucifer smiled for the camera, winking at the fans who screamed louder as he blew a kiss towards Yuuri, who squirmed at the attention. He could see just why Viktor thought he was just the cutest thing ever. At the press conference before the competition, he’d gushed about how Yuuri was his inspiration and how he’d never would have thought about making a come back to the international stage if it wasn’t for him rekindling his love, his _desire_ …

Well, the room had most certainly responded to that. In a way, setting the scene here was easier than in Russia. These people had already seen his performance at the Russian Nationals. The seed of what was to come had already been planted in their minds, and they were far more open to suggestion as a result.

The last question had made him chuckle, even now as he was remembering it.

“Mr. Nikiforov, it seems that this year’s themes are all rather adult in nature. Yuuri Katsuki has ‘Eros,’ Christophe Giacometti has ‘Mature Eros’, and it seems your performance on your home turf was also quite suggestive. Is there a reason for these adult themes? What kind of message do you think you’re sending to your fans?”

Viktor Nikiforov just tapped his chin thoughtfully before giving a wink and a seductive smile to the reporter.

“That sex is just _fun_.”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri tried to keep the concern from his face as he took to the centre of the ice. So far he’d managed to avoid most of Lucifer’s attention; for all his efforts, it seemed like the Devil was occupied with other things and paid him little to no attention anyway. Uriel had seemed perturbed at that, but tried not to let it show, but Yuri could feel it curling under his skin, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. “ _You’re going to put me off my performance,”_ he thought irritably. As if the press conference wasn’t enough, the reporters, going nuts over ‘Viktor’s’ comments about sex,had turned on him, questioning the ‘purity’ of Yuri’s theme in comparison. He’d mumbled something about wanting to be different, suddenly uncomfortable about where their line of questioning was going to go.

Despite everything that was happening, he still wanted to win. There was a change in the order that everyone was skating in, and the organisers had swapped him and Chris around. Not that this should have been an issue; he knew he was still going to beat the Swiss man regardless of what order they skated in, and with a bit of luck, he might even beat Viktor...

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and waited for the music to begin.

When the first chords sounded, he felt a strange calm settle over him, the sounds around him muted into a serene silence. His body moved effortlessly through his routine, even as his arm was raised to increase the difficulty of his jumps, it felt like he was floating through them, almost like he had... wings.

It wasn’t until he was seated at the kiss and cry next to Yakov did the world come rushing back. His eyes widened as he watched some of the replays, not quite believing it was himself on the screen. His skating looked positively _beautiful_.

_Angelic._

He blinked as his scores were read out. He’d beaten his previous score from the Grand Prix; he couldn’t help the smile of joy, the rush of exhilaration. He’d beat Viktor Nikiforov, he’d become _better_ than him. It would be he, Yuri Plisetsky, who became the best figure skater in the world.

“Well done, _Yurochka,_ it’s amazing how well you can do with a little _divine intervention._ ”

Reality came crashing down with those words and the look on Viktor’s face as he said them, that all-knowing grin. His victory wasn’t entirely his own, and with that the realisation about why Viktor looked the way he did for all these years; the feeling rose up hot and bitter in his throat, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and an even sourer look on his face.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Chris smiled. He knew his face was on the camera for the world to see, and it wouldn’t do to show just how impressed he was with the little Ice Tiger’s skate. The young man looked radiant, his beauty taking on an ethereal quality as he skated. He truly deserved the score that he got and his stomach knotted at the thought that maybe the best he could hope for in this competition was third.

He mentally shook himself. It wouldn’t do to dwell on it. He wouldn’t let those thoughts stop him from skating his best, and who knew; maybe Viktor would break his leg before he got to skate, or maybe Yuri’s rabid fans would abduct him and he wouldn’t be able to do his free skate…

He skated out onto the ice as they announced his name, arm raised to acknowledge the cheers of his faithful followers, and took up his position in the center. He’d skate better than the little blond Russian; his theme was Mature Eros, not some platonic love bullshit. His theme was about the raw power that came from seduction and a good fuck, definitely not something that the little kitten would know about.  

As he skated, he poured those feelings into his routine. The image of Yuri Plisetsky, face all pink from embarrassment and lust, that gloriously soft blond hair like a halo around his face, pretty pink lips parted to take his cock in his mouth…

He finished.

Chest heaving, face red from exertion, and like the song said: he jizzed in his pants.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Lucifer’s laughter echoed off the walls of Viktor’s prison. The man was nearly bent over double, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes and he struggled to contain his mirth.

_Oh, that Chris is really something isn’t he? Fancy using the Russian Fairy as wank fodder in his skate routine! I bet you didn’t see that one coming did you?_

Viktor could only fold his arms and look uncomfortable.

Lucifer suddenly looked very interested. _Oh, really? You too, huh? Now there’s something I didn’t know. I would have thought that your mind was too full of me… but I can see it now. Your arse belongs to me, Vitya, but you can stick your dick into anything you like, including underage boys, because you wanted to didn’t you? The little Russian kitten is only just legal, Vitya, shame on you for harbouring such thoughts. I thought it was only the clergy that was interested in things like that._

Viktor stayed silent. It wouldn’t do to even entertain a response. The Devil was right, and they both knew it; it was hard to figure out just how much he knew, after all, he had been his constant companion for more than half his life. It would make sense that he knew about every teenage crush, every impure thought…

_Oh, Vitya, the look on your face says it all. I know everything about you, the darkness in your soul and your dirty little secrets. That’s why my plan won’t fail this time, because I’m not actually the evil one here. I didn’t make you lust after a boy, you did that all on your own. That’s the beauty of free will. Nobody can make you do anything that you don’t already want to do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a skating competition to win._

Viktor blinked. Lucifer was now wearing a different costume to the one that he wore during the Russian Nationals. Black and form fitting with shiny blue embroidery that snaked diagonally down his chest, catching the light as he moved, making the tangled lines shimmer. The line continued down, over his hip to spiral around his leg, the blue on black contrast making him seem taller, longer; a design that would make his spins dizzying to the audience.  

The Devil knew how to attract someone’s attention.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Lucifer smiled a small, private smile to himself as he stood out in the middle of the ice. This would be the performance that would attract the attention of the world. Sure, people were looking closely anyway, with the great Viktor Nikiforov taking to the ice once more. The world was watching, scrutinising, some wanting him to rise to greatness, and others wanting him to fail spectacularly.

His performance would certainly be spectacular.

The opening bars of his music sounded out across the stadium, the crowd sighing in appreciation as they watched him glide out over the ice, his body moving with the undulating beat of the music, beckoning the audience to watch him closely. The spiral motifs on his costume just added to the enigmatic patterns his body was making as he went through his step sequence. His first set of jumps were executed perfectly, drawing appreciative noises from the crowd; his spins were terrifyingly dizzying, the crowd gasping in shock.  

Building up speed for his final  jump, the crowd was holding its collective breath. There was only one element left in his routine, and that was his axel jump. He gathered himself, muscles tensing in preparation. For the audience, it seemed that time slowed down enough for them to count the number of rotations in his jump. A disquiet settled over the spectators before they erupted in disbelieving cheers.

Viktor Nikiforov had successfully landed the world’s first quad axel.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

The results of the the Free Skate weren’t really a surprise to anyone paying attention. Viktor was first, with a world record that beat Yuri Plisetsky’s, which had been a world record for all of ten minutes. Christophe Giacometti was a respectable third. His score would have been impressive if it hadn’t been overshadowed by two world records.

Viktor had certainly caught the attention of the world. People who weren’t interested in figure skating were now paying attention and tuning in as the news coverage across the world showed footage of his record breaking quad axel.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Chris knocked on the door of Viktor’s room, bottle of wine and some glasses in hand. It didn’t matter that the free skate was tomorrow, a bottle of wine between the two of them wasn’t going to affect their skating; in the past Viktor and himself had shared far more and still managed stellar performances, with the knowledge of their hangovers secure between the two of them.

Viktor opened the door with a toothy grin. “ _Chrissounet_! Fancy seeing you at my door, and with wine no less.”

He stood aside to let the taller man in.

“Viktor, darling, I wouldn’t come unprepared. It seems that you and I have lots to discuss…” Chris waltzed through the door, pausing momentarily when he saw Yuuri curled up on the bed, blanket heaped over his shoulders, a peaceful look on his face as he slept. “...though I can come back later if Yuuri is resting. We can always go back to my room.”

Viktor looked over at Yuuri’s sleeping form, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Y’know what, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Yuuri hasn’t been sleeping well lately, and this is the most peaceful I’ve seen him look for weeks. As you said, I should be looking after him, so we will go to your room and get started on that bottle that you have in your hand.” He finished off his sentence with a wink, the two of them moving quietly back out of the room, the door closing with a soft click.

Back in Chris’s room, it was a different story, the two of them seated on the bed, laughing and drinking as they caught up on recent events, before Chris managed to get around to the subject he was most interested in.

“So, Vitya, since when could you do a quad axel?” Chris leaned in, his tone conspiratorial. “How long have you been hiding that from us mere mortals? I can’t believe you can pull it off, isn’t it supposed to be something that us taller-built men dream of? The physics are all wrong, our shoulders are too broad, our hips not narrow enough… but you, you managed it anyway. Did you sell your soul to the devil?”

The look Viktor gave him in return was certainly compelling. Chris felt like he was falling into the blue of Viktor’s eyes; did they glow in the muted light of the room? Viktor’s voice dropped into a throaty purr as he whispered in Chris’s ear, making him shiver as hot breath caressed the shell of his ear.

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

Chris paused for a moment. His last line was only meant as a joke, a throwaway comment. Surely such a thing couldn’t possibly exist? His eyes narrowed for a moment. “Viktor, what are you implying?”

Viktor chuckled as he leaned into him, the sound seem to echo slightly, like it was more than one person laughing. “Ah, _Chrissounet_ , surely you haven’t thought the same thing over the years? ‘If only I could win against Viktor Nikiforov? What would I give to be the best skater in the world?’”

Chris could only stare at the lips that were tantalisingly close. Viktor was right though, he had thought, more times than he could care to remember, about what he could give, real or imaginary, to beat Viktor on the ice. The wine was making him feel warm, and his head was getting a little fuzzy. Surely he hadn’t drunk that much? He took a deep breath, realising that he was close enough to smell the faint scent of Viktor. He smelled like Christmas wine, all cinnamon and spices. “Vitya, did you change your aftershave? I have to admit, this one makes you smell positively edible.”

Those lips, plump and delectable, curled into a smile. Viktor leaned in close, brushing them against his own, stopped only by Chris pulling back slightly to look him in the face.

“Vitya, you know I’m not one to judge, but what about Yuuri?”

Viktors lips made a moue before quickly closing the distance between them. “I’ll worry about that later. I won’t tell him if you don’t…”

Chris couldn’t remember Viktor’s lips being this soft, or his kisses being so irresistible, heated and leaving him wanting more. A hand pushed against his chest, coaxing him to lie back. He didn’t need much encouragement. He’d felt slightly on edge after his own skating performance, slightly perturbed at the thought that he used Yuri as fodder for his routine, but couldn’t shake the mental image of the teenager from his mind.

Viktor broke their kiss, lips moving across the line of his jaw before arriving at his ear, teeth nipping at his earlobe as a hand snaked down and cupped him through his trousers. “Oh, C _hrissounet_ , you really are a naughty boy, thinking of the _kotyonok_ at a time like this.”

Chris couldn’t gather his thoughts enough to respond to the sultry accusation. Viktor was right, he _was_ thinking about Plisetsky, but how did Viktor even know? The hot breath in his ear and the fingers that were skillfully stroking him through his clothes were a potent distraction.

”You should see your face, _Chrissounet;_ the way your eyes change colour when you think about him, the way your cheeks redden…”

The statement was punctuated with a squeeze that made him let out a small moan, his eyelashes fluttering against flushed cheeks.

Viktor pulled back for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face as he looked at the ornate desk in the room with the large mirror that rose up behind it. “You _should_ see your face…”

“Vitya… I don’t remember you being this kinky, but I think I like where this is going…” Chris licked his lips in anticipation, before pushing Viktor back with an ardent kiss of his own, his own hands reaching underneath Viktor’s shirt to caress the toned muscles of his torso, a rumble of appreciation sounding in his throat.

Lucifer broke the kiss with a nip to Chris’s lower lip, his own curving into a suggestive smile. _“I was_ always _like this.”_

Chris breathed in deeply, the heady smell of cloves and spices making his head feel deliciously fuzzy. “You really have to tell me what aftershave you’re using; it smells positively _divine_ …”

He missed the frown and the slight narrowing of Viktor’s eyes at his comment.

Chris stood up from the bed, taking a few steps before turning back to Viktor still seated on the bed. With a wink and a provocative pose, he shimmied out of his shirt like a strip tease, before turning away once more to take a few steps closer to the desk. He slid his thumbs into sides of his waistband, gliding them towards the front, so that when he turned back towards Viktor, he undid the button with small _snap_. With his eyes closed, he continued to move his hips to a rhythm that only he could hear, getting lost in the eroticism of the moment.

He heard the rustle of clothing, felt the increased temperature of the immediate space around him as a hand covered his own. Chris opened his eyes to find Viktor standing in front of him, his hair falling over his face as bright blue eyes that seemed to glow stared hungrily into his own. Long deft fingers tugged at the zipper of his trousers, and with a sharp intake of breath, Viktor helped him tug it downwards, grinding his own hips against where their hands were, his erection unmistakable through his own pants.

His eyes flitted closed as hot lips claimed his own, those delicate fingers reaching under the hem of his trousers, nails digging in under the elastic of his underpants, impatiently tugging the clothing down until it pooled around his ankles. Viktor pulled him close, mouth working ardently working against his own in a series of soft bites, hands reaching to cup the firm globes of his arse before giving them a playful squeeze, pulling Chris hard up against his body.

“ _Isn’t it nice when we’re the same height?”_

Viktors voice was a husky low growl that sounded like it was many voices all at once as he backed Chris up against the edge of the desk, grinding their hips together so that the hard velvety flesh of his erection rubbed against the supple cloth covering Viktor’s own.

“Vitya, you have too many clothes on!” he grumbled, tugging at the drawstring of Viktor’s pants, before sliding his hands past the elastic to wrap his fingers around Viktor’s length. He closed his eyes as Viktor kissed up the side of his neck, hands working the taut muscles of his hips before half lifting him so that he actually sat on the desk, it wasn’t so much of a lift as more of a push, the length and flexibility of his legs evident as he wrapped them around Viktor’s waist.

Fingers slid over the bones of his hips before reaching the base of his cock, ignoring it in favour of continuing southwards. Chris’s breath hitched as they reached the crease of his arse, gently probing.

“Chrissounet, _don’t tell me you already had a go before coming to see me?”_ Viktor’s whisper was hot in his ear.

Chris let out a breathy sigh as a finger slid easily into him with a faint squelch. Sighs turned into moans as a second, then a third finger joined the first, working their way inside, seeking out the spot deep within that felt like it ached to be touched. Fingertips brushed over it and, he gripped Viktor’s cock harder in response, a needy whimper escaping his lips. “I couldn’t help it…”

“Kotyonok’s _cries were much sweeter when my fingers were inside him…”_

Chris’ eyes flew open and he pulled back slightly to look at Viktor. His grin looked almost cruel, but the way he licked his lips sent a shiver down Chris’ spine and caused him to clench around the fingers that were inside him. “W-what?”

“ _... though in this position, he’s flexible enough to rest his ankles against your shoulders, thin arms clinging around your neck as you thrust into his tight little hole…”_ the words were punctuated with a thrust of his fingers.

“Y-you and Plisetsky?” Chris stammered, not wanting to give into the thrill of those words that made his stomach clench and his balls tighten.

A deep throaty chuckle as those fingers continued to stroke him from the inside. “ _Yup. After Nationals he came barging into my room, hissing and spitting like the little cat that he is. Stroke him the right way and he begins to purr like you wouldn’t believe. Soon he was begging me to stick my cock into that cute little boy pussy of his.”_

The words coming out of Viktor’s mouth sounded so wrong, but Chris couldn’t help the way they made him feel, the heat coiling through him, threatening to consume him in an obscene blaze.

“ _You really should see your face now,_ Chrissounet. _The thought of fucking the shit out the_ kotyonok _really has you going.”_

Viktor was removing his fingers, pulling him away from the desk to turn him around, grinding his cock into the cleft of his arse while pale white fingers began to dance over the skin of his dick, contrasting with how red the engorged flesh was becoming, the tip beginning to purple, his slit leaking precome that dripped, coating his skin with slick.

Chris dropped forward, his hands on the desk as Viktor prised his cheeks apart, rubbing the head of his cock around his loosened bud collecting the moisture that was coating it.

 _“It’s like I don’t even need any lube, you’ve already used so much that it’s still slippery. What were you thinking about as you fingered yourself hmm?_ Kotyonok _isn’t much of a giver, he’s much better at taking it…’_  

Chris gritted his teeth as he felt Viktor push his cock through the ring of muscle, letting out small pants as he felt himself slowly get filled until Viktor bottomed out, grinding his hips in for good measure.

Lucifer began slow, languid thrusts, angling himself so that he brushed up against the sweet spot inside, the one that made Chris’s legs tremble slightly each time he did so.

“ _You can’t bend him over like this though, your legs would be far too long, but on all fours, face pressed into the mattress as you pound into him, making him beg you to give it to him harder… he begs like a pro, all tears and pleading cries.”_

Chris couldn’t help the long moan that fell from his lips. Viktor was stoking a fire that he had often denied existed.

“ _Let yourself go,_ Chrissounet _, give into those thoughts, just imagine how_ delicious _the kitten will be when you finally take him…”_

Viktor’s provocative litany of words about how good Plisetsky had felt underneath him, the feeling of Viktor moving skillfully, hands touching all his sensitive places, his cock repeatedly rubbing against his prostate… the sight of his own face in the mirror, cheeks flushed with more than just lustful exertion; with a French curse, he came all over the desk.

Trying to catch his breath, Chris watched as Viktor took his hand, swiped his finger through the mess on the desk, and began to draw an intricate pattern on the mirror in front of them. The mirror seemed to shimmer under the symbol, like the road on a hot day. Chris blinked a few times, he didn’t think that the sex was _that_ good that he was going blind… Then a figure appeared in the mirror, his own reflection wavering over the top of it.

“ _For me, Luci? You shouldn’t have!”_

 

_X----X----X----X----X----X_

 

Record breaking numbers of viewers were tuning in to watch the Free Skate of the Euro’s. The routines had been uploaded to youtube and viewed thousands of times. Viktor’s short program and quad axel attracted the most attention; discussions appearing on social media as the world speculated whether the feat was just a trick, slowing down the footage and showing it frame by frame to ‘expose’ the lie, only to be disappointed that they were proven wrong.

Smaller discussions began surfacing over the slowed down footage. Did Viktor look different? His features not quite the same; the eyes that looked like they glowed, and the shadow of what looked like wings behind him? That was surely a trick of the lighting, all the different spotlights creating strange shadows and effects as he skated.

Sports reporters were flocking rinkside, looking to be the first to capture whatever surprise Viktor Nikiforov had in store for them.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri watched Chris’s Free Skate with a critical eye.

It was a different routine to what he’d seen at the Grand Prix. This one was more, elegant, graceful; the man moved like he was whispering sweet nothings into his lover’s ear. Instead of feeling warm and fuzzy, those ‘nothings’ made his mouth go dry, his breathing quicken, and gave him an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach. Those whispers spoke of seduction, and a love that was anything but pure and chaste.

He could feel something in the air, the stirrings of hundreds of spectators falling under whatever spell the Swiss man was weaving. Faces were flushed, breathing hitched and quickening, everyone leaning forward in their seats, as if they were being drawn down deeper into whatever emotions they were experiencing.

Chris finished with a flourish that sent a ripple through the audience, a collective shuddering sigh. No doubt the pervert had come in his costume… _again_.

Yuri was already waiting to enter the rink, Chris taking his time to wave and blow kisses, bending to pick up the flowers that had been thrown out onto the ice. The older man stopped in front of him, and with a rakish smile, gifted him with one of the roses. Yuri took it with a huff, stepping aside to let him pass, not wanting to meet the gaze that felt like it was seeping into his very core, trying to draw out whatever feelings he had hidden.

He thrust the flower at Yakov, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering scent. Were the fans now spraying perfume onto their flowers? He skated out onto the ice. He wasn’t going to let a stupid flower, or its cloying scent, distract him from his routine, from beating that shitty pervert, and that even shittier old man.

Yuri threw himself into his routine, poured his soul into his skating; his jumps exhilarating, his step-sequences breathtaking. Would it be enough? It had to be enough…

The music reached its crescendo, he pulled himself out of his spin and struck his final pose, chest heaving. It took a moment for the agony of his body to catch up with him, he’d really pushed himself, much harder than at the Grand Prix.

Did the cheers seem somewhat… less? Sure flowers and stuffed toys were being thrown onto the ice as he raised his hand in acknowledgement, but the applause for Chris was somehow different from what he was receiving.

With a final wave he exited the rink and made his way to the Kiss and Cry with Yakov. The scoring was lacklustre, and certainly not indicative of the effort he'd put into his performance. Yakov gruffly reminded him that effort meant nothing if the judges didn't think you should win, but he could tell that his coach was less than impressed.

He heard the crowd's murmuring fade into hushed silence.

Viktor had taken to the ice.

Yuri narrowed his eyes and made his apologies to Yakov. He was done with the Kiss and Cry, and the commentators were now fully focused on Viktor. He quickly made his way out of the rink area. He didn’t want to be sitting in the audience while Viktor skated, not after what happened in Russia. Instead, he went into one of the viewing rooms to watch the skate; everyone should be rinkside watching Viktor skate which would mean that the room should be empty.

He walked through the hallway as quickly as he could whilst still wearing his skates, there was no point taking them off. He knew he’d get a medal; which one was the question. The discordant hum of an off key piano signalled the start of Viktor’s routine.

He cautiously pushed open the door of the viewing room, looking to see if it was empty first before entering. Thankfully it was. Viktor’s skating displaying on the large flatscreen TV that was on the wall. Yuri’s eyes were drawn to the image of Viktor moving across the ice, the camera zoomed in so that he was much closer, looked bigger, than what he did from the stands.

The words of the song faded into the background, a dissonant hum in the face of what he was seeing. VIktor’s arms reaching out, pleading with his audience, pleading with _him._ The promise of all things improper, the granting of his deepest, darkest desires. Yuri could feel the heat coil through him like a fiery whip that curled around his soul and set it aflame.

Viktor beckoned.

Yuri responded.

The memories of the night after the Russian Nationals came flooding back, taking him by surprise. His breathing accelerated, his face flushed. A needy moan escaped from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut and a shudder went through his body. His skin prickled and he felt himself swell to the point of pain; trapped inside his skating costume with no easy way of release, an aching unfulfilled desire threatened to overtake him.

He reached down and cupped himself, nearly crying at the contact. It didn’t feel like it was any sort of relief, but it felt like _something._

For four minutes he sat in front of the television screen, writhing and moaning. Needy tears spilled over his cheeks, accompanied by whimpers of desire. He’d give anything, _anything_ , if he could just...

“ _Just what?”_

Yuri blinked.

The crushing desire that he was feeling moments before, had settled to a muted roar in the back of his mind. He was sitting in front of the duck pond, Uriel standing in front of him, hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently.

With a sob, Yuri flung himself at the angel, wrapping his arms around his waist. Uriel patted him awkwardly on the back. “You have to tell me. What was Lucifer making you feel? What did you want to do? I can’t stop him unless I know what he’s up to.”

Yuri pulled back with a sniff. Sympathy was definitely not one of Uriel’s strong points. “He- I, God, I can feel it even now, I just…” He waved his hands in a helpless gesture. As soon as he left this place, he would back at the mercy of those tumultuous feelings.

“...I just want to _fuck_.”

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Yuri could only grit his teeth and smile for the camera. Standing on the podium in third place was not something that he’d anticipated. He’d broken a world record, and held it for as long as what it took for Viktor to skate and break it again. He hadn’t performed poorly in his Free Skate either, but the performance put on by Viktor and Chris in theirs… the judging was somehow _worse_ than what it was in Russia. He sniffed, his eyes watering slightly as the smell of cloves and spices, and now _roses_ tickled his nostrils, seemingly stronger than what he thought was should be possible.  

He glanced sideways at Viktor who was smiling and holding his gold medal aloft. Further along the podium, Chris was doing the same with his silver one, their eyes met for a brief moment, but it was enough to send a chill down his spine. Chris’s eyes were shining brightly, perhaps a little too brightly, their hazel hue seemingly tinged with a little more green than usual. The man gave him a wink, his gaze lingering a little longer than what was necessary; a hungry look that made Yuri feel a little more than uncomfortable.

It reminded him of his night with Lucifer, and of the reactions that watching Lucifer’s skate had wrung from him.

Yuri flinched as Lucifer put his arm around him.

“Smile for the camera, _Yurochka._ The world is watching. It won’t do for the press to think of you as a sore loser.” Blue eyes looked down at him, the colour seemingly absorbing the chill of the ice and reflecting it straight back at him. The grip on his shoulder tightened painfully for a moment before Lucifer stepped away to embrace Chris and smile for another photo.

 _It’s not Viktor anymore_ , he thought. _I have to keep reminding myself that it’s not Viktor._

Yuri stepped off the podium, trying to brush the troublesome thoughts from his mind. It wouldn’t do to dwell too much on what was happening. What could he do? Even the power of an angel wasn’t enough to get him through this competition or save him from the effects of Lucifer’s skating; it certainly wasn’t going to be enough to save the world from whatever it was that was happening. He couldn’t quite understand it; wasn’t good supposed to triumph over evil?

There was obviously a lot he didn’t understand. How did ‘good’ and ‘evil’ battle it out anyway? Wasn’t there supposed to be flaming swords? He was pretty sure that sex didn’t come into it; but that was all that was happening right? People just being horny and… and…

He’d wandered into the change room, only to be greeted with the sight of Yakov bending Georgi over one of the benches. The old man’s head was pink and shiny with sweat, hips thrusting into Georgi, who was clearly enjoying whatever it was that was happening to him.

Yuri backed out of the change room, torn between disgust and horror, and straight into a firm unyielding body.

“Careful there, _Yurochka,”_ a deep voice purred in his ear. “You wouldn’t want them to notice you peeping on them. Surely you’re not a little voyeur hmmm? Or maybe you are?”

Yuri looked up into Chris’s eyes, hazel and shimmering with green as if they were lit from within. The same kind of light that made Viktor’s eyes glow blue. The smell of roses hit him like a wall, sickly sweet, as if it was sticking to his skin and dragging him under like it were quicksand. “You’re not that Swiss pervert anymore, are you?”

‘Chris’ let out a husky chuckle that Yuri felt all the way down to his toes. “He’s still here, inside…” He tapped the side of his head with a beguiling grin. “But I can assure you, my little Russian _fairy,_ that he and I share the same _desires.”_

“So you’re both perverts then?” Yuri couldn’t help but be rude, as far as he was concerned, there was no need to be polite.

“He and I are… kindred spirits. I should introduce myself. After all, I can’t have you calling me _pervert_ all the time. My name is Rosier. You could say that I’m the patron of romance and seduction. I’m the one that you call one when you’re in need of honeyed words and eloquent phrases of love. I could talk the very birds from the sky and fish from the sea, make them fall in love with each other and die before they knew they were doomed.” Rosier sniffed the air for a moment before fixing him with an intense stare of renewed interest. “Ooh! Now that’s interesting…” His green-tinged gaze was almost predatory. “Luci didn’t tell me that there were more of _us_ here _.”_

Yuri opened his mouth to reply, but the voice that came out was not his own. “ _I’m nothing like_ you _, demon. Don’t think you’re going to be here for very long. A second rate demon such as yourself should be easy to dispose of.”_

Rosier chuckled, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Uriel? Fancy seeing you down here! I would have thought that all of this was beneath you. You hardly ever show up to these things, that is of course, unless you think you’re winning. We all know how much you hate to lose Uri; which means… that you being here is an _accident_ . Does your little host know that you’re not here in your full capacity? I bet you promised him that you’d protect him, keep him safe from the big bad Luci, but truth be told, the best you can do is what? Light a few candles? Create mind space? You can’t actually _do_ anything, can you?”

Yuri paled. Was the demon right? Had Uriel basically lied to him this entire time; his promise to keep him and his grandfather safe?

“ _Yuri, don’t listen to him! Remember who is! Seduction doesn’t have to be sexual, he’s trying to put doubt in your mind, and make you distrust me. If you don’t trust me, then my capacity to help you is reduced. I can’t force things to happen, it’s against the tenet of free will.”_

The teenager was torn. The two entities were correct in their own ways, so which one did he believe?

A particularly loud moan startled him, reminding him that the change room was otherwise occupied.

Yuri could feel his frustration at the situation, at the events surrounding him, start to mount. How was any of this fair? All he wanted to do was skate, to win, to beat Viktor-fucking-Nikiforov. Not have his life in shambles because of some battle between good and evil.

“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck _all_ of you. I’m really wondering if I even care enough about any of this to give a shit anymore. All I wanted out of all of this is for my grandfather to be safe, and now you’re telling me that it can’t be done. So what’s the fucking point in _any_ of this then?”

Rosier leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “You’ll have to ask your angelic host the answers to those questions, my little fairy. I’m just a second-tier demon as Uri will so eloquently put it; I’m here because I was told to be. Once I’ve done my bit, what I choose to do in my spare time is none of Luci’s concern, but I _will_ be making the most of it.”

Yuri could only throw his hands in the air in disgust. The moaning in the changeroom was changing pitch, Georgi’s panting getting higher and whinier. No wonder Anya left him if he sounded like a dying pig during sex. “I don’t give a fuck what any of you do anymore. I’ve got my qualifier for the Worlds, no thanks to you arseholes, and I _will_ win without help, divine _or_ demonic!”

Rosier just chuckled, the sound tickling his senses in a way that was starting to make him feel more uncomfortable. “I look forward to it, my little fairy. Shall I see you at the banquet tonight? I hear that catering has really outdone itself this year; there will be some tasty morsels up for devouring.”

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri can take a loss if he has to, but with a competition so grossly biased, he feels his righteous anger is justified at the end of competition banquet. Turns out that he's not the only one that's angry, though, and as tensions continue to mount, things take a dark turn.

Yuri was suspicious. Suspicious _and_ uncomfortable. The banquet eerily reminded him of the one after the Russian Nationals, except there were obviously more people here, and everyone seemed somewhat… _overdressed._ Case in point, the Swiss Pervert had shown up in a three-piece suit, as had Viktor. Katsuki, however, looked less refined. Viktor really should have done something about the eye-bags that Katsudon was sporting. He huffed to himself, reluctantly admitting that the pair of them certainly cut dashing figures; it was hard to look sophisticated when you had a reputation for being a fifteen year-old rebellious teenager.

Covertly looking around the room, he was also surprised to see that nearly everyone was actually attending. “Shouldn’t they all be fucking somewhere?” He scowled as he muttered into his glass of champagne.

“Should you really be drinking that?”

Yuri nearly dropped the glass. The Swiss Pervert had seemingly appeared from nowhere. “Shouldn’t you be chumming it up with…” he waved his hand in the general direction of Viktor-Viktor-who-wasn’t-actually-Viktor, who was busy being charming and witty. All the things that he wasn’t at the moment.

“Awww, is the little fairy jealous? Everyone is paying attention to Luci over there, and so they should be; so handsome, so charming… so _tall.”_ Rosier chuckled, low and heavy, the sound making Yuri’s stomach flutter.

He was about to fire off an angry retort when arms were wrapped around him and he was enveloped in perfume, frills and girlish giggles. “Congratulations, Yuuuuuuri!” His name, drawled out in an Italian accent.

“Sara! Get off him!” Wherever there was Sara, her brother Michele would not be too far behind...

Yuri would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so busy trying to disentangle himself from Sara’s embrace. His temper started rising as Mila joined in, crushing him from the other side, the two girls laughing at his obvious discomfort. “What Michele said! Get off me you hags! Why don’t you go hang off someone who actually likes that sort of shit, like the fucking Swiss Pervert over there!”

“But Yuri!” Sara pouted at him. “You look so cute in your little jacket and tie, trying so hard to be grown up and all. You haven’t even been in Seniors for a year. You’ll need to revamp your look if you want to pull the ladies.”

Mila snorted. “He doesn’t want to pull the ladies, he just wants to pull Beka!”

The two girls shrieked with laughter as Yuri felt his face redden with shame and embarrassment. He wanted to protest; Beka was just a friend. His _only_ friend.

“Oh, but ladies, the little fairy is just fine as he is. After all, I’m here, you two are here, what more does he need? Give him a few more glasses of champagne and I’m sure there will be even more people flocking to his dainty side… you can’t miss the jealous looks that Michele is giving him. I’m pretty sure he could snag himself whomever he wanted.” Hazel eyes smouldered with a green light, and the words were lush with promises.

The girls giggled, letting go of Yuri to hang off Chris instead, the man sliding an arm around each of them, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Yuri snorted. “You look like a pimp.”

The girls raucous laughter was harsh, Chris’s chuckle seemed slightly discordant. The smell of cloves and spices seemed to intensify for a moment, causing Yuri to look around for the source. Viktor was still in the same spot, across the room, but the piercing look that he gave, the sly smile on his face as he sipped from his glass, sent a shiver up his spine.

“Are you calling my sister a whore?”

Yuri paused for a moment, an incredulous look spreading over his face as he turned to face Michele. “What?”

“I said: did you just call my sister a whore?” Michele’s face was one of slowly growing rage.

“What the actual fuck? How much have you had to drink already?” Yuri was finding it difficult to keep his own temper in check.

“So now I’m a drunk?” Michele shot back angrily, getting closer and shoving Yuri in the chest with the palm of his hand.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Yuri slapped Michele’s hand away. He could feel the fine hairs on the nape of his neck beginning to stand on end. Things were beginning to escalate out of his control, but with everything that had been happening, to hell with the consequences if there just happened to be an international incident. It wasn’t like the world really cared what he was doing at the moment, it was too busy watching Viktor-fucking-Nikiforov and the Swiss Pervert jizz on the ice.

“My problem is that you called my sister a whore. From these pigs it’s expected,” he pointed with his chin, indicating in the general direction of the crowd that was slowly gathering, attracted by the commotion. “But you? You think you’re all that just because you won last season? Your entry into Seniors was a fluke! You want to run with the big dogs, you gotta stop pissing like a fucking puppy!”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Yeah? Well, this _puppy_ beat a world fucking record! What’s your excuse? Maybe if you stopped fucking jacking off over your sister, you might fucking skate better!”

_What is this? A fucking soap opera?_

Uriel’s voice in the back of his mind was heavy with disapproval and was distracting him from Michele’s belligerent posturing. Yuri thought he heard the tinkling of a glass breaking, but only seconds before he felt a piercing pain in his chest.

A burning sensation took over, lancing through him like hot sharp needles. It took him a moment to register the screams, he blinked in confusion before it dawned on him.

Michele had stabbed him with his bottle.

He staggered backwards before crumpling to the floor

Time seemed to stand still. He was lying on the floor, staring at the ornate ceiling. The shrieks of those around him seemed like they came from far away, like he was underwater; sinking. The burning sensation in his chest seemed to have died down to just a dull gnawing ache, one that felt like it would eventually consume him.

He shivered.

Why was it so cold? Did the hotel forget to put the heater on? He suddenly felt tired, weary, like he’d skated harder than he’d ever had before - pushed to his limits and beyond.

Chris stood over him, hazel eyes full of concern, except it wasn’t Chris, and those hazel eyes looked way too green… “Yuri? You need to keep your eyes open for me. You need to keep talking to me. I’m going to get you out of here. Can you stay with me?”

Yuri grimaced in annoyance. The pain was dulling and he was getting colder. What was everyone so worried about? “S’cold…”

He watched owlishly as Chris removed his jacket, draping it over him. He rubbed his cheek into its warmth; it smelled faintly of roses. Chris then picked him up, like he weighed nothing… to be fair, he didn’t weigh very much to begin with, but had Chris always been that strong?

Yuri giggled softly. “Just like a princess...”

Chris smiled down at him, “Not a princess. A fairy.”

“ _Where are you taking him!?”_ Uriel’s voice came from his mouth. Yuri had to cough with the effort it took to speak so forcefully.

“Hush, Uri, do you want to kill the poor boy? Then what will you do? Surely the guilt of killing one of Father’s precious children will mean that you’ll have to spend time with Luci, and we don’t want that now do we? After all, you’re supposed to be trying to stop him aren’t you?”

Yuri coughed again, his lips felt wet. When he licked them, they tasted metallic. Coppery.

Like blood.

“Hang in there, Yuri, we’re just going to go somewhere nice and quiet and out of the way, and then we can fix this… hole in your chest.”

Yuri felt himself being jostled as Chris shouldered open the door to a bathroom. The lights seemed overly harsh and bright, making him squint. Even squinting seemed to hurt.

He wanted to close his eyes; he was so, so very tired…

“Stay with me, little fairy, we can’t have you flitting off just yet.”

Chris’s words seemed like they were layered, like there were ten of him talking at once. Yuri felt them pull at him and he struggled to open his eyes. He felt himself being lowered to the floor. He could feel the chill of the tiles through his clothes.

Chris tutted at him, “Ah, you really need to eat a bit more, so thin…”

Yuri coughed, could taste the copper bubbling up, coating his lips in red froth. He felt the stirrings of panic. “Am I going to be ok? You promised me that I’d be safe…” the words trailed off, consumed by another coughing attack. “I-I don’t want to die, I _can’t_ … _dedushka..._ ”

“You hear that, Uri, you promised him you’d keep him safe from Luci, and you and I both know that this was caused by him. Indirectly perhaps, but it has infernal interference written all over it… what would Father say if he knew that you’d possessed this poor boy, made promises to him that you’d protect him, and then at the first sign of trouble left him to die? Really, that would make you no better than Luci, in fact it would make you _worse_ than your dear brother. At least Luci has _conviction_ and _follows through_.”

Yuri felt the inside of his ribs begin to burn, hotter than anything he’d felt before. There was a blinding flash of light, which blazed forth from his chest and reflected off the tiles around them. He swore he could smell the flesh burn as it stretched and twisted.

He wanted to scream. Anything to make the searing pain lessen.

“Hush,it’s nearly done. You’re being so brave...” Chris’s reassurances were soothing, making him choke back a sob as his body twitched and writhed.

He could feel his flesh knitting back together, his insides shuddering and spasming as they healed.The light winked out and the world came rushing back to his senses. He gasped. The lights were still bright, making his eyes water, or at least he thought it was the lights. He choked on a sob, his chest constricting tightly, his arms reaching for something, anything…

The scent of roses gently wafted over him as Rosier wrapped his arms around him, “Hush. I know that was hard for you,” he soothed, “but it’s all over now, you’re still alive yeah?”

Yuri could only sob into his chest, a chest that felt bigger, warmer, _safer_ than Viktor’s… A shudder went through him as the memory of the Russian banquet came back to him. Chris’s voice was low and warm against his ear.

“Hmmmm, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but ah, you’re kinda _hard_ right now, but it’s okay,” he cooed. “It’s just a natural, physical response to nearly dying…”

Yuri could only sob harder, cling tighter, as he felt his skin grow warmer, prickling like a thousand ants were crawling all over him. His clothes felt too tight, too scratchy. “Please! Do… _something_!” he pleaded, lifting a tear stained face to stare directly into the hazel eyes that looked down at him, the faint green glow making the heat pool in the pit of his stomach.

“If you cling and plead so sweetly, how can I say no?” The smile was warm, inviting, the tongue snaking out to lick those plump red lips positively decadent.

Yuri could only lick his own lips in response, subconsciously mirroring the action.

_Wait! Don’t listen to him! Don’t let him…_

Uriel’s protests faded into the background as the look in those faintly green-glowing eyes made him tremble with anticipation.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Lucifer watched as Rosier carried the limp form of Yuri Plisetsky out of the hallway, lips curling in to a smile. Just what exactly did Uriel think he was going to achieve on his own in the body of a fifteen year-old boy? His attempts to steal attention from the skating routines had not gone unnoticed, and given enough time, he may have succeeded. But Lucifer had a head start, so Uriel’s attempt had failed in the face of not just Lucifer’s routine, but Rosier’s as well.

The chaos around him was positively thrilling. Michele had smashed his beer bottle against the pillar they were all standing around and lunged at the young Russian skater, burying the jagged remains deep. When the onlooking crowd had begun screaming and panicking, the look on the Italian’s face was priceless; rage and horror all mixed into one miserable visage as Michele watched Yuri stagger backwards, crumpling to the floor as the shock made his legs give out.

Lucifer wanted to laugh. He could feel it bubbling within his chest, wanting to burst forth from his lips; but he was also Viktor Nikiforov, and Viktor wouldn’t laugh… at least not out loud.

“Viktor? What’s happening? What’s going on?” Yuuri had a hold of the sleeve of his jacket. “I heard screaming…”

Lucifer looked down at the pale face that was gaunt with lack of sleep. He was surprised that Yuuri was able to pay attention to anything that wasn’t him. “Ah it’s nothing, _Detochka_ , just some of the young ones getting a little too rambunctious in their celebrating.”

Obviously Yuuri hadn’t seen the aftermath of the commotion.

He snaked an arm around Yuuri’s waist and pulled him close, nuzzling him under the ear. “You don’t need to worry about them, as soon as we’re done here, I’m taking you back to the room and celebrating my victory. I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to win…” He ground his hips against Yuuri’s suggestively, enjoying the rush of colour that stained those pale cheeks. “I can promise you that you won’t be forgetting this night in a hurry. The only thing that will eclipse this will be my victory at the world championships.” Lucifer captured Yuuri’s lips in a searing kiss that made the younger man tremble and sag in his arms, his eyes glazing over.

Around them, the screams intensified as blood splashed across the marble tiles of the floor.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Rosier really couldn’t believe his luck. Or maybe he could. After all, having a silver tongue meant that he made his own. The Russian Fairy was clinging to him so desperately, his mind an absolute mess thanks to Uriel exercising some of his divine powers to save the poor boy from certain death. It was obvious that the angel had little to no experience with possessions; history showing that he preferred to stay out of the way of mortals and only making an appearance when victory was guaranteed.

He was a bit of a coward like that.

Rosier buried his nose in the soft, blond strands that smelled faintly of vanilla. Yuri’s whole body gave off the sweet scent, stronger now that Uriel had used his powers to knit together the slashed flesh and punctured organs. The smell was positively _delightful_ mixed in with Yuri’s own personal scent; it made the front of his tailored trousers uncomfortably tight.

“Why is this happening to me _again_?” Yuri sobbed as he clutched at his arms, tear-stained face deliciously inviting, green eyes sparkling with moisture, the ivory skin of his cheeks blooming with rosey colour.

“Again? Oh, my little fairy, this will be _nothing_ like Luci’s hamfisted attempts; I’ll make you sing sweeter than any canary. By the time I’m finished, you won’t need Uri to be able to see the face of God and live... but I’m definitely not going to be doing it on the bathroom floor.”

Rosier scooped Yuri into his arms, lifting him up, encouraging him to wrap his thin legs around his waist. He gracefully stood, carrying the teenager over to the sinks and depositing him onto the marble counter, pleased to find that the height made things line up perfectly. He titled his pelvis forward, purring in delight as his erection brushed up against the teenager’s, resulting in the legs wrapped around his waist tightening, drawing him in closer. Yuri whined at the friction, his forehead falling onto Rosier’s shoulder.

“Hush, _mon choupinet,_ I promise that I’ll make it better soon. Just keep being needy, your body tells me you want it. Just let go and give into it.” Rosier slid a hand along Yuri’s jawline, cupping his face and tilting it upwards. Rosier bent his head, drawing his nose along the underside of chin that was exposed, breathing in deeply the scent of arousal and possession. “You smell sweet. Like candy. I could eat you up…”

The stubble from the Swiss man’s beard scraped across Yuri’s sensitive skin, making him shiver. They moved like an electric current that went straight to his groin, erection jerking painfully. He could feel his face reddening, hot tears beginning to prickle behind his eyes, threatening to spill forth. An embarrassed whine escaped from his lips as they parted, eyelashes fluttering against burning cheeks.

Those lips parted in subconscious invitation was an offer that couldn’t be refused.

“ _Scheiße_!” The German curse was harsh, contrasting with the soft melodic French from earlier. Rosier crushed Yuri’s lips beneath his own in a bruising kiss, cupping his hands under his arse and pulling the teen hard up against his own straining erection. “Do you feel that?” He growled, “That’s how hot you make me right now.” Rosier rolled his hips in emphasis as he captured Yuri’s lips in another savage kiss.

Yuri couldn’t think straight. Rosier’s kisses were dizzying; would they be just as effective if he had possessed anyone else? He could feel the heat Rosier’s body emanating through his clothes, the smell of roses that was once cloying and nauseating was now soft and alluring. He took a deep breath, the scent washing over him, and stared into the faintly glowing green eyes, lost in the promises they held.

Rosier’s hands moved purposefully, long fingers deftly undoing their trousers, freeing their taut flesh from the confines of their clothing. He wrapped his hand around the both of them, drawing their flesh together. “Ah _,_ isn’t that better?” His voice a raspy purr in Yuri’s ear. “Your skin is like velvet; so smooth and warm…” He dragged the edge of his forefinger over the tip of Yuri’s cock with a throaty chuckle, collecting the precum that was beginning to seep from it.

Yuri could only whimper and shudder as his sensitive skin was caressed. Why did Rosier have to be so good at this? Where Lucifer’s touch was like fire that ignited his body, Rosier’s was subtle, seeping into his very core. He could feel himself unfurling much like a flower in bloom, desire opening up under a lover’s skillful touch. His climax built, threatening to overtake him, and his arms slipped around Rosier’s neck, clinging desperately as he moaned into another passionate kiss. His  legs, wrapped around Rosier’s waist, were tensing and tightening with each pump of his fist, his heels pressing against the top of his hips, urging him closer.

“Getting impatient are we?” Rosier’s voice was getting husky with repressed lust, as he held back his own release, whilst coaxing Yuri closer to his. “Sing for me…”

Yuri's body jerked and shuddered. His release splashing against Rosier’s hand, his mewling cries muffled as he buried his face into the broad expanse of chest. He could only watch from the corner of his eye as Rosier brought the thick fluid to his lips, his hot wet tongue snaking out to taste it.

“Hmmmm, vanilla cream. Looks like Uriel used up quite a bit of power to save you.” Rosier purred as he adroitly removed Yuri's pants completely, leaving the Russian teen naked from the waist down. The glowing green eyes devouring the expanse of milky white flesh before spreading the pale thighs to display the flush of colour between them. Rosier hooked his hands underneath Yuri’s knees and tipped him backwards until he was resting against the bathroom mirror, the curves of his bottom hanging over the edge of the marble counter.

Yuri could feel the long dexterous fingers probing at his entrance before one slid in. “W-wait!” he protested. Despite not being prepared for it, it didn’t hurt like the time with Viktor. Maybe this was… different.  

Rosier chuckled as he worked the finger inside him. “What’s the point of being a demon if I can’t use a little magic?”

Yuri could only bite his lower lip as another finger seemed to slide in effortlessly.

“I imagine, Luci being the brute that he is, didn’t bother with anything as _thoughtful_ as this…” Rosier’s dulcet tones continued to weave around him as his fingers stroked him from the inside. “Are you ready _mon choupinet?_ Your lustful cries tell me that you can’t wait. Do you need it? Tell me now.”

Yuri could feel the heavy weight of Rosier’s cock against the inside of his thigh. It felt much more substantial than Lucifer’s… was the Swiss Pervert incredibly hung, or was that just more demonic magic at play?

Rosier arched an eyebrow, a sultry smile playing about his lips. “I see that look, and believe me, there’s no magic involved with the equipment. What you see here, is exactly as nature intended it to be.” He gave his hips an indecent roll against Yuri’s own, holding apart his thighs as he lined the tip of his cock up with the beckoning pink entrance. He couldn’t stop the low moan that fell from his lips as he thrust inside. The teen’s tight embrace wrapping around his flesh like warm silk. His eyes, lit from within by the luminous green of possession bored into emerald green eyes that sparkled with unshed tears and shimmered with an unspoken yearning. _“_ _Ich will es dir besorgen._ ”

Yuri’s brows furrowed slightly at the unfamiliar German. The way the demon was looking at him, he could only assume that it was something filthy. He could feel himself clenching tightly around the hard length inside him, his muscles rippling and spasming, seemingly grinding themselves against the rigid flesh that rubbed against the parts of him that made him shudder and melt from within.

Rosier adjusted his grip on Yuri’s thighs, fingers digging into the white skin, leaving angry red marks in their wake. How nice would it be to mar that perfect flesh, to leave his mark for all to see. He gave the boy a wicked grin, his face flushed with the effort of holding himself in check. “I forgot to tell you, not only am I responsible for seduction, but also love that is _tainted_. For all the impure thoughts, the dirty old men stroking themselves over the young boys. Those that dream of defiling virgins, taking pleasure in their deflowering. All those fantasies where the guilt consumes them and they whisper how they shouldn’t do it, into the darkness.” As he spoke, he punctuated each detail with a languid thrust, shifting his hips so that the sensorial gland within was grazed over and over.

Yuri couldn’t help but wrap his legs around Rosier’s plunging hips, locking his ankles together to keep them joined. He whined in frustration, feeling empty when the man withdrew, only to moan sweetly when he was filled once more. Every time he dared to look into the eyes that threatened to devour him, he couldn’t help feel that Rosier was _looking for someone,_ the insistent stare that seemed to look into his very soul for any secrets that he may have been hiding.

One secret.

“Uri…” Rosier crooned as he increased the pace of his thrusting. “Are you enjoying this? Does this feel good? Your vessel is enjoying it; his cute little cock is crying with joy!” He scooped up the dewey precum that leaked from the tip, bringing it to his lips, sucking on his own fingers like it was the cock in question.

Yuri could feel himself getting light headed, his nerves prickling so much that his skin felt full of static. Everything seemed to focus on the delicious friction that Rosier was generating, that made him feel like he would burst like a spark of lightning. Needy words began to spill from his lips, _harder, faster, more;_ they echoed off the tiled walls, accentuated by panting breaths, and the squeak of sweaty flesh as it moved against the marble countertop.

“ _Uuuuuurrrrriiiiiiiii._ ”

The call was insistent. Rosier’s voice called the angel’s name with a depth that seemed to reverberate off the walls. It made made Yuri’s teeth ache even as his nerve endings sizzled with each controlled thrust. He could feel the summons pull at his insides, like the demon was reaching into his being and grasping at his soul. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt all his muscles begin to tense, a wordless cry falling from his lips.

He could never be sure what had happened at that moment. When his eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and his muscles twitching in the aftermath, he could smell the faint scent of burnt vanilla. Rosier’s cock was still inside him, throbbing and pulsing, the sensation of warmth trickling from between his legs.

Rosier smiled down at him, pity and condescension warring on his face. “Ah, _meine Hure_ , the angel has left you all alone. He was too weak to fight against me and has returned to the heavens either to lick his wounds or for reinforcements. Either way, it doesn’t matter what he does, it will be too late. A pity now, you don’t smell as sweet, nor your eyes as bright. But you were still a good fuck. Ten out of ten, would do again. Even if you aren’t possessed.”

Yuri’s face burned with shame. As full as he was feeling, he felt emptier than he should have as Rosier withdrew his cock, leaving behind a dribbling, burning ache. He could feel hot tears welling up, spilling over his cheeks, the moisture doing nothing to cool his heated skin.

Twice now. That was twice that he was chewed up and spat out. Used as nothing more than a plaything. He swallowed hard against the sob that was building in his throat. There was no use crying; it would do nothing to ease the void he felt opening up inside him, keening the loss of his irritating companion.

“Cheer up _mon choupinet,_ not all is lost. You lived when you shouldn’t have. Uri’s possession was a double edged sword; I’ve done you a favour whether you realise it or not. When all of this is over, you’ll look back and thank me.”

Rosier cleaned the both of them up, lifting Yuri off the bench and helping him back into his clothes. Cupping a hand under his chin, Rosier lifted the teenager’s face to meet his gaze.

“Alas, my work here isn’t finished, and it seems I’ve developed a bit of a soft spot for you. Try to stay alive; you wouldn’t want Uriel’s last gift to you to go to waste.” Rosier adjusted his clothes, checking his reflection in the mirror, and when satisfied, gave Yuri a lingering look, one reminisce of their earlier hunger. Fishing in his pocket, he held out a card. “This is to my room, you might actually be safer in there. Things are about to get a whole lot more _interesting_.” With a wink he dropped the key into Yuri’s hand and left the bathroom.

Yuri could only stare at the key, the plastic card was cool to his touch. He didn’t know how to deal with the gnawing emptiness that was threatening to consume him. Perhaps the demon was right; he would be safer hiding out in a room that wasn’t his own, especially now that the angel and seemingly abandoned him. He sniffed. The lingering smell of roses and burnt vanilla were slowly fading into the air, like a scented candle that had long gone out.

 

X----X-----X-----X-----X----X

 

Viktor had dragged Yuuri away from the banquet hall with drugging kisses and insistent hands. He felt like he’d been in a haze since moving to Russia; the longer he spent with Viktor, the worse it seemed to get. It was almost like he was losing his sense of self, and drowning in a thick viscous liquid, its tendrils reaching out to grasp him and pull him under the surface.

But wasn’t Viktor… it was the strange dreams and nightmares, the lack of sleep and loss of appetite, and the overtraining trying to escape from it all. Viktor was his rock and his support through all of this, his warm touches that fuelled a fire that smouldered within him, hotter than anything he’d felt before. If the nightmares didn’t keep him awake, it was the burning _need_ to have Viktor fill him. The same need he was feeling now, stoked by the insistent kisses, those searing kisses that burned white hot, straight to the aching, almost painful erection he was now sporting.

He tried clearing his head, to shake the fog that swirled within, dampening down his mind, but Viktor just smiled his smile, gave a laugh that made his toes curl, and kissed him again, causing him to forget what he was so concerned about before.

The banquet right? Yuri lying on the floor in a pool of blood…

No, wait… Yuri had just drunk too much right? Chris had carried him from the room…

But people were screaming… No, just… laughing too loud…

He could hear himself moaning in response to Viktor’s tongue teasing the inside of his mouth, in reaction to what felt like multiple hands, undoing his clothes, moving across his skin, leaving incandescent trails across his skin. The smell of cloves and spices and _roses_ filled his nostrils, leaving him gasping for air.

He blinked. Viktor’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the hotel room that he couldn’t remember entering. There was a husky chuckle behind him. When did Chris arrive? Why was he even here?

Yuuri swallowed thickly as Viktor’s deft hands moved over his chest, pinching at the tight buds of his nipples. Chris’s long fingers slowly moved over the skin of his hips, teasing him, never quite touching him in the places that throbbed and ached in acknowledgement.

“Hush, _Detochka_. Just give into it. I told you we were going to celebrate my win, and this is how I want to do it. I want to give you pleasure that you can only dream about. So relax. Let go…”

There was something about Viktor’s voice that seeped into his consciousness. He felt his limbs go lax, his body feeling blissfully heavy. All he had to do was _feel_. Not think.

_Ah Yuuri. Look at those bedroom eyes and those dewey lips. It’s no wonder that I can’t keep my hands off you. Don’t you agree Rosier?_

Rosier? Who was Rosier?

Yuuri opened his mouth to question, but all that he uttered was a keening wail as he felt himself penetrated by something hot and heavy. “Vitya!” he gasped, feeling himself opening up and accepting the hard length, who’s he did not know, Viktor covering his mouth with his own and swallowing the mewling cries that escaped from his throat, as he could feel someone beginning to thrust into him, a slow rolling of the hips, and insistent hands coaxing him to move with them.

He could feel a pressure building in his head as his sensitive flesh was pinched hard, and then immediately soothed, with tongue and with fingers, to the point where he didn’t know where his skin began or where it ended, his whole being consumed by the sensations.

The thrusts became harder, more insistent, the slap of flesh against flesh rung in his ears; a litany of harsh sounding words he didn't understand added to the cacophony that was heavy breathing and moans of pleasure that were his own.

Warm smooth velvet skin rubbed against his cheek. He could smell the tang of salt, from sweat and precum; pressure against his lips coaxing his mouth open. He whimpered at the taste, of Viktor’s own special flavour, his tongue and lips working along its length. His stomach clenched in response to the whispers of encouragement and he could feel himself tightening, swelling. His cock straining for release against the hands that stroked and caressed it.

He could feel the need rising within him, his body chasing the moment of surrender.

He thrust his hips back; met with a grunt of approval, his reward was that delicious hardness being plunged deep, a tumescence within him that made him feel like he was being stretched to breaking, and a sharp slap on his arse. He moaned shamelessly around the cock in his mouth, sucking greedily at it, strong fingers twisted in his hair and urged him on; and suddenly he could taste it. The warm salt that was Viktor flooded his mouth, and he swallowed it down like it was his last meal on earth. The grip on his hips strengthened to bruising pressure, the thrusting wild and erratic; with a shout his insides were flooded, the warmth oozing from his hole and leaking down the back of his legs.

_Do you think there’s room in there for one more?_

Yuuri looked upwards, mouth still around Viktors cock that showed no signs of going flaccid, sticky ejaculate seeping from the corners of his mouth; it seemed that he hadn’t been able to swallow everything after all. Viktors hand cupped his face, thumb rubbing tenderly over his cheek as he made minute thrusts into his mouth. Yuuri could feel the head of Viktor’s cock rubbing against the roof of his mouth. He closed his eyes and whimpered at the sensations, his own cock twitching and dribbling precum beneath them.

Long fingers reached for him, wrapped themselves around his aching flesh and gave his cock a squeeze. He thrust his hips forward into that hand, rubbing himself into it, coaxing it to give him the release he was seeking, his body trembling with the effort.

It didn’t seem to matter how much he was rubbed, how much he was stimulated. His release just would not come.

“Viiiiiiktooooooor,” he whined, tears forming, welling up and spilling over his cheeks, hands reaching for his lover’s body, clutching at him in desperation. Ice blue eyes that seemed to glow in the shadows of the room looked down at him, drawing him into their gaze. The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched upwards and he gave Yuuri a grin that seemed to be all teeth.

 

 _"Hmmm, er hat es wirklich nötig."_  
_"Unser Lustmolch hat wohl noch nicht genug. Denkst du woran ich denke?"_ _  
"Chris, du geiler Stecher, ich bin mir ziemlich sicher, das es ihm gefallen wird!"_

 

Yuuri blinked at the unfamiliar words as Viktor placed a hand in the centre of his chest, and pushed him against the unyielding body behind him. Hands reached for him, sliding down his thighs, taking hold of him, and lifting him up, positioning him so that he was on his back, resting against Chris’s torso; Yuuri realised that Chris had remained inside him the whole time. His hole spasmed in response, Chris groaning and muttering something in his ear, his facial hair rubbing across the sensitive flesh of his ear and making his skin prickle with goosebumps.

Yuuri’s cock shuddered and jerked, precome oozing freely, bubbling up from his slit and oozing down the sides of his straining flesh. Viktor placed his hands on Yuuri’s knees and pushed them wide, his hungry scrutiny making Yuuri twitch and tremble even more. He watched, open mouthed, panting in need, as Viktor eased himself forward, hand around his own cock to hold it steady as he pushed the blunt head against his hole, the hole that was already filled with Chris’s own pulsing member.  

He winced; whimpered in protest that it wasn’t going to fit, that there was no way that he could take the two of them at the same time.

With a predatory smile, Viktor shoved it in anyway.

Chris’s hand snaked around and clamped over his mouth, stifling the scream that was torn from his throat. Hot words were whispered in his ear, words that made his body twitch and writhe, accepting Viktors length inside him; while his mind screamed it’s agony as Viktor worked his cock into his abused hole until he heard Chris’s voice rumble through him: _I can feel your nuts against mine Luci, it’s kinda hot._

The temperature in the room dropped. The shadows in the corner of the room seemed to flicker. Viktor’s eyes glowed brightly in the gloom, and for Yuuri, time seemed to slow to a crawl. He watched wide-eyed as one of the shadows detached itself from the others and came closer, coalescing as it did, taking on human form. Red eyes smouldered in the darkness as features took shape. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat. His skin began to tingle, the fine hairs on his body standing on end. He watched as Viktor threw his head back and shuddered; Chris arching his body underneath him, driving his cock in further, deeper. Both of them swelling impossibly large inside him, making him feel like he was being stretched to breaking. All three of them breathing heavily from the pressure the stranger seems to exert over them.

The newcomer smiled, cold and soulless, their hand reaching out towards him. A long, delicate looking finger slowly ran up the length of his cock. As it reached the tip, Yuuri felt his entire body go into a paroxysm of release, a shuddering cry ripped from him as his back arched so hard he thought he would break in half, hot white strands spattering across his body. Moments later, he could feel the two men inside him pulse and throb, their groans mingling with his own as they emptied themselves within him.

Yuuri could only watch helplessly, his limbs languid in the aftermath, as the stranger approached them.

A musky scent hung in the air, like jasmine, or cedar… the smell of Viktor’s sweat after he skated; he could feel heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, suffusing his limbs, making them even heavier, the only thing stirring was his cock as it slowly swelled and rose once more.

_Glad you could finally join us Asmodeus…_

Yuuri blinked. Struggled to lift his head to turn towards Viktor. Viktor sounded different. Like his voice was layered; like there was more than one of him speaking. Who was Asmodeus?

A face appeared above his own, delicate fine features that looked as if they were carved from marble. A face so alluring that he felt his body continue to respond, his cock straining hard, despite the panic that was welling up inside him. He felt Chris and Viktor disengage themselves, slowly sliding free of him. He couldn’t help the small cry of dismay that escaped him, the visceral response to being left empty and aching… a beguiling smile crossed those perfect lips and Yuuri could feel himself being drawn in.

The face drew closer, those flawless lips parting slightly as they brushed against his own.

Yuuri could only sigh as he felt himself sink into the depths the kiss offered him. It fanned the flames that burned within him until he was responding with a fervour that he felt would consume him if he let it.

_Let go, my love…_

He felt himself fall.

 

X----X----X----X----X----X

 

Limbs graceful and toned stretched themselves as if he were a cat. He sat up, large, doe-like eyes blinked slowly, taking in their surroundings.

_So glad you could join us my dear._

A hand under his chin tilted his face upwards to look into his eyes...

Eyes that were dark brown with honey tones that were now tinged with red.

 

_FIN._


End file.
